Colour of Trust
by Castiel's drycleaner
Summary: Dean is having strange dreams of Castiel, Ruby has reported demonic activity in Nevada and Uriel, not Castiel, is sending the brothers after a Seal. Dean doesn't know where to start, but he begins to suspect his problems all have the same solution.
1. The colour of trust

**Hello All**

**Summary: Dean is having strange dreams of Castiel, Ruby has reported demonic activity in Nevada and Uriel, not Castiel, is sending the brothers after a Seal. Dean doesn't know where to start, but he begins to suspect his problems all have the same solution. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own the show, don't own the characters, don't own the angels.**

**Man that's depressing.**

**Major Characters: Dean and Castiel**

**Pairings: Sam/Ruby if you squint. Not a major plot factor, do not worry.**

**Warnings: Violence, Language, but if you watch the show, nothing new.**

_Chapter One: Seeing is Dreaming_

It was a dream that Dean was sure he had before. While that in itself was not uncommon since he was raised from perdition, the dream was not a nightmare of hell. It was not a feeling of picturesque terror of the act of torture on his soul in anyway known to man or demon; not the feeling of desperate revulsion in the torturing of other souls stretched out on his rack. But the feeling held the same notes as if they were three different parts of the same song. Which was strange, because in this dream he was just talking with Castiel.

The dream always started in Dean`s motel room, and matched whatever motel room Dean was staying in at the time. Sam was always asleep and never stirred. Tonight he was softly snoring. Castiel leaned against the wall at the foot of Dean`s bed. "You're not wearing your coat," observed Dean, as usual the first thing he noticed about the angel. Castiel's rumped white shirt was half undone, and the tie hung loosely around his neck like a noose. "Pretty sloppy for an angel." The angel was as still as a statue, stiff and unforgiving. His face was drawn into an impassive grimace, blue eyes focused elsewhere. Dean felt unsure if the angel had heard him, or if the still figure was really in the room at all.

"Sleep stalking me again, that's kinda creepy. You know 'Touched by an Angel' is starting to take on a whole new meaning." Dean swallowed impetuously. Feeling awkward addressing the man in front of him while lying on his back, Dean sat up straight in the bed.

Castiel did not twitch, or respond, or acknowledge that Dean spoke. Maybe it was just a dream, an ordinary daily residue, work-through-problems, random brain input configured into a story dream, not a message-from-God _dream._

Castiel lifted his eyes from the stain on the bedspread that covered Dean. Castiel stared into the Dean's eyes, though his gaze did not hold the penetrating ethereal power that it always had. The light from angel's eyes was dark with a weariness that should not have been possible for an angel of the Lord. "My duty has left me with no time for vanity," he remarked, though the reply to Dean's comment on his attire held little bite.

"What duty, chasing after Anna?" Dean sat squarely in his bed staring back into Castiel's shadowed blue eyes. Dean knew it was not wise to pick a fight with an angel, least of all the one who was his 'guide', but Dean still felt ripe with confusion and anger. Loyalty was a value that was beyond measure to Dean, and Castiel's ability to set it aside on 'orders' was shocking and disillusioning.

Castiel lifted a hand to his head, to support it, his long finger resting on top of his flat dark hair. "Those are no longer my orders. I requested to be assigned elsewhere." The voice of the angel was annoyed, made more evident by the increasing rasp in his throat. The hand that was covering one of his eyes dropped down to rub the front of his neck, nearly the same place where Alastair had strangled him.

"Well, what are you doing now, hunting down girls scouts who overpriced their cookies?" Dean eyed the angel, who may have flinched with the comment. Dean waited for the room to darken, for Castiel`s patience to wear thin, but it did not. Dean shifted in his bed, and swung his knees over the side. Castiel remained perched against the wall, his head tilted upwards, now leaning against the dull, cracked wallpaper.

"Recon. Upper level demons are congregating. We`re not yet aware of the reason." The angel wetted his lips, "It's hot down here".

"Are you in hell?" Dean asked incredulously.

The angel was silent again, he might have shivered, but in the dim light it was hard to tell, but remained by the wall. Dean guessed it was unpleasant mission, but not as dangerous as the one Castiel was on when the Rising of the Witnesses occurred. Maybe the angel was tired - if angels got tired - maybe Castiel had intelligence information, or maybe this was the same weirdo dream, as the whole situation stank with déjà vu.

"No." The angel's hand made a fist grabbing at his tie pulling it away from his neck. "But, it may be closer than I hope."

"What's closer, Hell?" Dean asked not getting an immediate answer, "Why?"

Always then in the dream did the walls of the hotel waver, Sam`s bed and Sam, the bathroom door, the rug, fading in and out of existence. Castiel stumbled, no longer supported by a non-existent wall. He caught himself on a knee. He was still grabbing at tie around his neck, and look through Dean. His eyes widened, and Dean though he saw terror there, terror he knew he recognized from the look in the mirror after his own nightmares of hell.

Then Dean was still sitting in his bed, but there were at a warehouse, and the tie Castiel was holding had become a collar. A black collar. Blacker than the impala, blacker than demon smoke, blacker than the cowl a reaper wore. Light around it bent in, pulled into the collar. Castiel`s light. Castiel slumped against a crate long ago forgotten, his right hand covering up the company logo.

The angel was pale, drawn, and confused looking. He clung to the crate as if it held him up. Dean straightened to stand up and go the angel's aid. The dark haired angel might have been a dick, might have been a heartless bastard, but sight of him hanging off the crate because he could not support himself stirred Dean's need for action, and his pity. The second Dean's feet to touched the floor, everything went white.

Then with a flash they were at the hotel. Castiel stood straight at the foot of Dean`s bed, his eyes vacant and he said, his voice a toneless rasp. "Get some rest, you`ll need it". The blacker than death collar, encircled his neck.

At this point Dean always awoke soaked with sweat, covers gripped in his fists, eyes wide.

"What were you dreaming about?" Sam`s sleep muddled voice was etched with cautious concern.

Dean looked over at his brother wincing at the familiarity of the words. Sam pushed himself up on one elbow and his chocolate coloured eyes squinted through the darkness. Messy hair flopped across his face, and his white shirt pulled down to reveal the top of the devil's trap on his shoulder. Tired but potent empathy radiated off his younger brother. Dean shrugged and answered truthfully, "It was pretty hazy. Something to do with Castiel though."`

Sam raised an eyebrow, "What did he want?"

Dean shrugged again, slightly worried that he could not remember the dream that had so suddenly interrupted his rest.

Sam rolled his eyes. "He needs to stop giving you orders in your sleep, if you`re not going to bother remembering them."

"It don`t think that was what it was... I think I`m going to go back to sleep." With that Dean lay down, feeling slightly edgy, slightly perturbed that he could not remember why Castiel had come.

* * *

Ruby strode into the boys' hotel room, arms loaded with coffee, pastries, and French fries, right into a line of salt. She took a deep breath, and hurtled a Danish into Sam`s head. She knew he was up, knew Dean was up. But Dean was never going to be charitable as they were never going to be friends, and today he looked even more antagonistic. Dean exuded tired and ornery from the way his body tensed at her movement, and Sam looked dazedly around until his eye`s settled on the coffee in the demon`s arms.

Sam unceremoniously rolled out of bed and put his toe through the salt line around the door. Then he grabbed his coffee. Taking a gulp, his mouth puckered at the taste. She thought she heard him mutter "Starbucks crap" as he pulled on his pants over top of his pale blue boxers. Ruby might have been a demon with a heartbeat only because she was riding around in vacant human body, but she appreciated the view. Dean opened an eye as Ruby put down the rest of the food in her arms on the small table in the hotel room. She stretched, feeling the pull of the healing flesh at her stomach, and slid into the metal-framed chair. She fished for the French fries as she felt the pierce of Dean`s eyes on her back.

"What, do you want one..." It wasn`t a question, just a jibe at the demon hunter extraordinaire who was flopping around like a beached whale, licking his lips in hunger.

Dean huffed, and tried to reach his pants on the floor, keeping the bed sheet over his bare chest. Ruby rolled her eyes. "Dean, I`m not going to peak, just get dressed. I got wind of some activity in Nevada."

"Nevada," Dean strained for his pants, "Got them." He then pulled them back underneath the sheets and manoeuvred them on.

"Impressive." Ruby nodded. Dean stopped and stared at a dark blotch on pale blue duvet, "Looks like blood." She added knowingly.

Sam heaved a sigh.

"What did you hear?" the younger Winchester asked in his slightly offended, slighted bemused voice. A smile curled up on his lips and she dunked a French fry deep into the lake of ketchup she had squirted in the crevasse of an empty donut bag.

"Today sometime, demon girl." Dean cut in.

"Well, if you insist. A lot of higher ups are swarming in the middle of the desert. Pretty weird, cause there's nothing there. Never was." She gashed open another package, and sprayed the red condiment on her food. "Practically a dead zone."

"Well there's obviously something there now. Sam, talk to hell bitch and figure it out." Dean looked disgustedly at Ruby's food. "I have to leave before she ruins fries forever. He grabbed a dark t-shirt out of a duffle on the floor, and went into the bathroom.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dean emerged, shaved, brushed and ready to go. He sat on his bed and pulled on his boots, doing up the laces. He started at the wall opposite his bed in vague recollection. The room felt oddly empty, somehow.

Sam was sitting in a chair beside Ruby, coffee in reach, a Danish forced into his mouth, absently typing on his lap top with one hand. His other hand was sneaking across the table to steal one of the fries. It got slapped, and returned to the job at hand.

Dean shuddered at the oddly domestic scene.

"What," inquired Ruby.

"Nothing, nothing. That actually looked like you two were a, a normal couple. Creepy." Dean fake shuddered again, made a self satisfied grunt, and wove through the room. "I'm going to go get a Nevada state map out of her trunk. Sammy, need anything?" A negative nod from his younger brother's direction. Dean exited the hotel room, but popped his head back in, "Okay you two kids behave while I'm gone, no messing up the place, no drinking my stash, no having hard core sex..."

Dean nodded perfunctorily and left.

Ruby looked over at Sam. Her curly black bangs bounced as she shook her head. She opened her mouth but Sam closed it with his fingers. "It's better not to ask." He continued with his search of newspapers out of Nevada, hoping some reporter did his job and reported unusual activity indicating a demonic presence. Omens were next. But so far, the whole affair was coming up clean.

Dean strode back in. He bent and grabbed a flannel shirt off the floor, smelled it, and put it on. "No Nevada map. Looks like I'll have to go to a gas station or something. We need gas anyway. Good thing prices are taking a dive." He started patting himself.

"Dean, what do you think you're doing?" Sam asked worriedly.

"Just looking for my-" Dean pulled a leather wallet from his back pocket, "-money." He started to walk back over to the door. "Be back in twenty. Previous warning still stands."

* * *

Dean changed lanes, shoulder-checked, and turned into the gas station lot. He whistled at the price on the billboard. _It's gone down again, does that mean we're actually winning the apocalyptic battle?_ It was a good thought, but Dean knew better than to base his predictions on that.

Dean slid out of the car door and reverently touched the black hood of his car. The warmth of the sun on the metal flowed through his hand down to his core. The unmistakeable mixture of spilt diesel, and burnt confection items common to all gas stations filled his nostrils. He straightened his clothes and proceeded to the gas pump.

Tank filled, he walked to the doors of the station. Dean leafed through his wallet finding the card he was going to use, courtesy of one "Brian Robinson". With his money in hand, or rather Mastercard's generous donation, he confidently pushed open the glass doors. The bell tinkled sharply, alerting the dosing cashier of Dean's presence. Dean wandered the isles of the minimart and grabbed a couple snacks. He paused at the map rack, hoping to get lucky and find the Nevada map here. He grabbed one, and made his way over to the pimpled-faced, skinny teenager manning the till.

The cashier nodded at the map as he rang it up, "Yeh, Nevada. It's pretty hot there this time a year. Cold nights though."

Of course it was hot in Nevada, which was like saying it was cold in Antarctica, or hot in hell. Dean nodded and wondered briefly like what the cashier said had meant something other the obvious platitude. "Have you ever been there?" Dean asked not sure why he was making conversation.

"No, but that would be an awesome road trip."

"Then how do you know it's hot there?" Dean replied to the kid as he bagged Dean's groceries.

"Dude, it's like Nevada, that's like down by Mexico."

"Don't they teach geography anymore, jesu-." Dean stopped and looked up at the sky. _Uh, I didn't mean it._

He gathered up his purchases, checked the fuel cap on the Impala, and drove away, back to the hotel. Dean parked the car in front of the room, and felt a quiet shiver go down his spine. He exited his baby, gave her an affectionate tap, and walked through the threshold of his motel room.

Sam was exactly where Dean had left him, though he had that freshly showered look about him. Ruby who was lounging on Sam's bed did too, which left Dean with a disgusted feeling. He was not gone that long. Dean set down the bag on his bed, after grabbing a package of candy. Depositing a couple in his mouth, he went over to hover on Sam's shoulder.

"Find anything?"

"Not yet, Dean," came Sam's only slightly irritated reply. Sam held out one hand expectedly. Dean looked at the hand suspiciously.

"You can go get you own treats." Dean chomped down the rest of the bag.

Silence descended on the threesome as they did their respective tasks. Ruby dozed lightly, Dean ate candy while flipping through John's journal, and Sam was research boy.

The door to the hotel room blew open. It smacked the doorstop and nearly bounced shut again. Dean jumped to his feet, the demon killing knife already in his hand. Sam had a shotgun loaded with rock salt levelled at the opening. Ruby was still on the bed, but when the figure walked through the doorway, she looked like she wanted to roll under it and hide.

"Look it's Mr. Junkless himself. What an unwelcome surprise." Dean let the slur roll off of his tongue without worry.

"Look, it's one mud monkey, one tainted mud money, and one abomination. I can fix that for you." Uriel did not ask if Dean and Sam wanted Uriel to help, nor did the brothers quite understand what he was offering to 'fix'.

"To whom do we owe the displeasure of your visit to?" Dean straightened, but didn't put the knife down. He knew it was worthless, and immature, but the feel of it was comforting. He also noticed that Sam's shotgun was pointed at the floor, but still had the safety off.

"Orders," was Uriel clipped response. "It seems you mud monkeys are to earn your keep."

"Why, what's going on? And where your boss man? I thought he was my cosmic secretary." Dean tried to peer out the door past the bulky angel, with little luck.

"Castiel is busy on a mission, and does not have time to wait upon your shoulder." Uriel snapped, but he, for all his might and righteousness, his hot anger never frightened Dean the way Castiel's cool, quiet fury did. "A possible seal is in danger. Intelligence reports that it will be broken in Nevada soon."

"Nevada?" Sam asked in a whiny tone, "Any more specific than that?"

"No. But is the Seal of Sight of a Seer. It is one of the little known seals; much of the knowledge about it was lost. The beginning of the ritual requires a vessel to blind a seer. The rest of the ritual was lost. No doubt because of the destructive acts of your race."

"Well I guess your race wasn't fast enough to preserve it. Wait, seers? Do you know who Lillith is going to target?" Dean straightened, squaring his shoulders to the specialist. Ruby had slipped over to the wall and hovered near the only escape route, an open window.

"That is your mission. Not mine. If you discover who the target is, call for me." Dean blinked, and Uriel had abruptly vanished.

"Told you something was going down in Nevada," Ruby said from the back of the room.

"I bet you're so happy that you were right, too," Dean said snidely.

"So call Pamela and Missouri, and any other psychic we can think of." Sam pulled out his phone, and stopped. "Do we need to call Pamela? I mean, hasn't that ship kinda sailed?"

Dean shrugged. "Still should give her the head's up. She might know a couple other who fit the bill."

"I guess." Sam started dialling.

Dean looked around the room. "And I'll start packing the car. For when we find the poor bastard being targeted."

Ruby glanced at the two brothers.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Dean looked expectantly at the demon. She shrugged.

"No."

Hours later, with all psychics and their mental gifts/eyeballs safely accounted for, the group was ready to head out to Nevada for hands on research. Maybe they would start getting lucky and Lilith would cross the street in front of them, get hit by a bus made from metal off of a Colt's furnace, and all the world's problems would be solved. But they were not counting on it. That's why they were working on plan B.

"Sam, take first leg. I think I'll get some rest." Dean softly shivered after at his words and wondered why the whole thing felt so familiar, and so worrisome.

* * *

_So that's a wrap on Chapter one. I planned out the story, I'm thinking it will be about seven more chapters, and the fic will be completed by Jan. 15th._

_I decided to write a fanfic, honestly for mostly selfish reasons. There are so few not-slash fics with our fangirl stealing angel in them, so I thought of a plot, just so I could have something to read. (An awful lot of work, but I enjoy writing once in a while.)_

_If you liked, REVIEW, constructive criticism accepted with thanks._

_Next chapter is 3/4 done, but needs to be edited, So probably up next by Tues, or earlier. Incentive, (reviews), will get it posted faster._

_Thanks to a friend for betaing. You know who you are._


	2. The sound of trust

_Hi,_

_Thanks for the overwhelming number of positive and encouraging reviews. To my couple of __anonymous reviewers, thanks guys! And thanks for pointing out that typo anon so I can fix it._

_THANKS to my new Beta OTS for fixing my little typos and grammatical errors. Anything left is my fault when I went over it again and rewrote a couple parts. _

_So without much further ado:_

* * *

Chapter two: Sound of Trust

* * *

Dean was sure that this was the same dream. It felt so similar. The others in the car were a loose and disconnected presence on the edge of his senses. Despite the underlying tension that permeated the air around him, Dean waited patiently in his dream for what he thought would come. An air of pressure hummed where the rumble of the Impala's motor should have been, and the only sense of movement came as the curves of the road shifted Dean's body in the car. It was Sam's turn at the wheel, Ruby in shotgun, and Dean was slumped in passenger seat behind her. Ruby and Sam sat perfectly still, zoned out, a part of a different dimension. Therefore Dean did not expect them to acknowledge Castiel when he appeared on the seat beside Dean.

The angel sat stiffly in the seat, his khaki coat absent from his shoulders. His chin rested on his chest, mouth set in a grim line, the diminished brilliance of his eyes focused on the seat in front of him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, but in the dim light, Dean could not see why. Castiel's shirt was uncharacteristically dirty, but again, Dean could not see with what. His tie though was in perfect form, cinched up to his neck with precision that would make any politician envious.

"So is cosmic dry cleaning service down again or something?" Dean felt compelled to speak. Castiel did not look up. "Why are you here? Do you have more information about the Seal?" Dean wondered why he asked. This was just a dream.

It was late; few other cars were on the highway. The scenery was the inky blackness – the short trees and shrubs illuminated by the Impala's headlights were the only thing Dean could clearly see. The interior of the car felt stifling and empty. Dean knew it was a dream, but vaguely he remembered it was important to pay attention and remember what the angel said.

"A Seal? The demons are wandering through the desert." Castiel voice sounded gravelly, unused. He was still next to immobile. Dean hardly even saw his lips form the words.

The angel sagged abruptly, touching his head to the seat in front of him, his dark unruly pressed up against the leather. One pale hand rose up to touch the black silk tie at his throat. Dean watched mesmerized as the angel swallowed deeply, and winced.

"Where, which desert?" Dean perked up. He waved a hand in front of Castiel's vacant visage. For a few seconds nothing registered on Castiel's expression. Then, his eyes went wide in traumatized fear. Castiel whipped his head back, smashing it into the seat behind him. "Whoa, easy there Cas."

"My name is Castiel." The angel said somewhat stiffly. Dean raised an eyebrow at the comment. Dean noticed the stiffness that permeated off the angel's body. His knuckles were white, the angel's angular jaw clenched.

Dean frowned. "Where are you?"

"I'm following them, watching them. They might be after a seal, but I don't know which one. Uriel was to discover which seal, and inform me when I reported the demon's destination." Castiel rolled his head slowly over to face Dean. A head light from an oncoming car shone through the shadows, briefly illuminating Castiel's face. His lips were cracked, his cheeks sunburned, and blood was caked on his temple. His fluttering eyes were dull and glassy, not the fluorescent and intense orbs that could stop the coldest hunter in his tracks. Then the light went past them. And Castiel looked as he had when he appeared in the seat beside Dean.

The image had appeared and disappeared so rapidly, Dean thought his mind was playing tricks. It was so unexpected, so different, so startling. Dean tried to rationalize what he saw, but he could not. When Dean saw Castiel's face in the light, the angel looked as though he had been dragged through hell. And Dean _knew_ what that meant.

Dean stared shaken. "Their destination was where?" Castiel did not speak. "Come on, Castiel! Where were the demon's going? Nevada, the bunny ranch, Disneyland?"

Then the car wavered in and out of reality. The feeling of the tires against the road disappeared; the rumbling of the Impala's engine faded; the inky blackness of the interior of the car disappeared.

Harsh light filled the warehouse. Dean sat on a brown half-rotted couch in a back corner of the large room. He was frozen in place and tight hold on him not unlike the demonic psychic wrist lock, but Dean was able to see his new surroundings. Old cob webs hung from the high ceiling's numerous crossbeams and braces. The walls were all grey boards and chipped paint. Sandy dirt and animal waste made up the visible floor, though underneath could have been cement. A generator hummed loudly outside, blocking out the sound of the wind, or any other wildlife. The smell was a mix of rotting wood, fabric, feces, and must. Dean could almost taste the mold and decay that would have saturated the air. He could hear flies buzzing.

Company crates of different sizes stood in piles around the warehouse, except for one place. Dust filtered through the rays of light emitted by high spotlights set up to illuminate the center of the old building.

On the edge of the clear circle kneeled Castiel, both hands pulling weakly at an object that encircled his neck. The collar was the colour of a grave-dogs bark, color of a scream in the dark, color of a soul's last breath. It was the colour of death. Any sound around the angel bent into it, his voice calling for help funneled into it. Both hands let go, and Castiel fell against a near crate.

He looked pale, where his face was not burned or bloodied. The angel's expression was that of fear, but dampened by burning resolve. Dean felt the vice like grip that held him in his seat released. Dean shot up to his feet and –

Found himself back in the Impala, behind Ruby. He whipped his head to the left, knowing Castiel would be there waiting to tell him something.

Castiel sat close to him, ragged as he was at the beginning of the dream, and mouthed words at Dean. Dean had to lean in closer to hear the angel: "Get some rest. I`ll need it."`

Dean gasped suddenly, his body jerked hard against the seat belt.

"Whoa," Ruby said, "I just had the creepiest feeling run down this spine. Just like an ang..." She trailed off, looking around suspiciously. "Almost like there was... Never mind."

Dean looked at her warily. He had decided to ask her what was setting off her spidey senses, when Sam broke in. "Another dream, Dean?" Dean nodded. "Like last night and the night before that?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Yeh. Except I remember a bit more. Something about a warehouse, and lots of bright lights."

"Was Castiel there too?"

"I`m not sure… I don`t remember him saying anything." Dean relaxed against the comforting leather seats. He sighted deeply and looked to his left on instinct. But there was nothing there.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala in an open spot in front of a hotel just across of a large piece of arid land. The state owned it. The land was technically a park, and a wildlife preserve on the map. Dean figured the only reason it was on that map that way was the land was completely barren. No one wanted to own land with the only feature being rock and a cactus.

"Demons wandering through the desert…" Dean mumbled to himself.

"Excuse me?" Ruby raised a long eyebrow at him.

"What… nothing!" Dean exhaled, exasperated.

Exiting his vehicle, he pocketed the keys and stretched. All the years of his life, there was nothing better after a long car ride than a good stretch. A threesome with the Doublemin twins came close, maybe topped it, but right now he was willing to settle for the stretch.

"Hey Dean! Mind getting us some rooms?" Sam tapped him on his shoulder and pointed towards the doors of the hotel lobby.

Dean sighed a contented sigh and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He kicked his feet through the light-coloured topsoil, and made his way through the doors to the front desk. "Two rooms, a double and a single. Close together, adjacent if possible."

The elderly Chinese man at the counter nodded. "Two rooms, one for lady, two for men. Okay." Dean smiled as he accepted the room keys that were actual keys. The man grabbed a large coiled book from underneath the counter. "Pay now. Cash. How many days?"

"Cash?" Dean sputtered and replaced Mr. Robinson, his credit card. The bald spot on the top of the man`s head bobbed. "Oh man."

"How many days, son. You deaf?" The old man glared at Dean`s affronted look.

"Five."

"A week and get a price break." The look the man gave Dean reminded him of the Cheshire Cat of the Disney cartoon of _Alice of Wonderland_ that Sam had seemed so fascinated by. _Man that kid was warped._

"Okay, a week." Chances were that they might be here that long if the case continued with the ever so slow rate of turning up leads. So far, it was a complete dead end despite both Godzilla and Mothra stating the opposite. A niggling feeling at the back of Dean's mind said he was missing something, a big-picture clue, but retrieving that information at the moment was impossible.

"Six hundred ninety dollar please." The man held out a weathered wrinkled palm.

Dean choked, and handed him most of the cash in his wallet.

The small man counted it, and then turned to lock it in one of the most secure-looking safes outside of the time locked bank vault.

"Have nice stay."

* * *

The local bar was typical for the area. Lots of bikers, lots of cowboys. Lots of biker chicks that had a hard on for leather, lots of cowgirls that had a hard on for denim and big hats. Then there was the common smoky atmosphere, dim lighting, and the persistent scent of spilled alcohol, tobacco, and vomit. Dean loved places like these. So many fond memories: first John letting him have a sip of beer, then the adoring expressions from the waitresses, to learning how to hustle, picking up the still-adoring waitresses, getting in bar fights with his brother at his back over hustling said waitresses... Unfortunately, Dean knew he was there on business, but that did not mean he could not get a number of the buckle bunnies serving Sam and him beer, on the house.

He and Sam sat at a corner booth, Sam on his laptop taking advantage of the WiFi network. To Dean's big surprise, Mr. "I don't handle credit cards", didn't have internet set-up in the rooms. Ruby was off wherever she went when she was not telling them what to do, or making big black googlely eyes at Sam, or- _insert humility -_saving their lives. Dean grew bored quickly watching Sam's unsuccessful attempts to pinpoint any signs of demonic activity, and stood up.

He could have hustled, but he did not want to attract too much attention… yet, anyway. He could have sat with a number of young woman at the bar, who had glamoured up and done their hair. But for some reason, he thought of Anna.

Dean shook himself and the picture of her in his mind slipped away. Disturbed, he settled to listening to the pieces of conversations that drifted to his ears.

"And he got so drunk, he puked on his mom..."

"They kicked me out of the bar down the street just 'cause I'm underage. Do you see how good I look?"

"Man, my truck broke down today. Guy at the shop said six hundred. What a rip!"

"Police said that there was no trace of the girl...." A quiet conversation from the far edge of the bar piqued Dean's interest. "Poor bastard - his wife is dead and his little girl just walked out the front door."

An older woman nodded to the middle age man that had spoken. "I was outside getting my mail, before anyone figured out she disappeared. She called to him, said "bye daddy, got to go play with my angels. I won't be back for a few days, okay? But don't you worry". And just like-"

The middle age man broke in, "Just like that _what_? If you know something, you should have gone to the sheriff."

"No, no," the women shushed him. "And just like that, I walked inside. Though little Lila gave me the strangest look before I shut the door."

"Like what..." The man's word dragged on as he noticed Dean. His jowls bounced as turned his head. "Hey buddy do you mind? We're trying to have a private conversation here." The middle age man stood up and glared menacingly at Dean. Well, as menacingly as a half-drunk white-collar man, twenty years his prime could.

"I couldn't help take interest in your conversation, sir. See, I'm a US Marshall. Me and my partner" Dean pointed at Sam furiously typing in the corner, "were just passing through town, but it seems like we should maybe stop and show a little interest in the case." Dean lied as smoothly as his newly restored flesh.

The man nodded knowingly. "Ah. Well then, you'll wanna' see Sheriff Brown. He's the lawman in these here parts."

Dean stifled a snicker. _Okay, a white-collar with a lifelong dream of staring in a western_. "Thank you, mister..."

"Wayne."

_Of course...._

"I'm Judith O'Hara. Just in case you want to interview me later..." The middle aged woman bent over and scribbled her number on a bar napkin.

"I will keep you mind, mam." _Whose mind, I'm not sure. Maybe Sam's._ With that Dean strode victoriously back to Sam's table.

"So, have you found anything yet?" Sam glanced up at Dean's question.

Sam smirked. "I think I've done better than you. I don't have cougar bites."

Dean huffed, affronted. "Sam, I was working the job."

"So was I." With that said, Sam swiveled his lap top to face Dean. "Look here. I listed out all the references to odd weather, random crop failures, dead livestock, and I've come up with a pattern."

Dean nodded Sam on. "It appears that there is a line of omens, coming from the north of here, starting in Wisconsin, then they traveled south and stopped for a day. But it ended up around here somewhere. The events are too spaced out for me to tell exactly where, but in one of the towns around here, someone has got to have heard something."

Dean nodded. "Lilith possessed a little girl. Then she disappeared."

Sam's jaw dropped. "Where did this happen? When? Who, Dean?"

"No, she didn't possess me, Sammy. I'm not a convincing Shirley Temple. And not so many questions at once. I got a first name, and a witness testimony. Oh yeh, Marshall Sam, that was the cougar thing."

* * *

Uriel was waiting in the shadows of the room when Dean and Sam arrived at precisely 2:13 am. Dean pulled his piece when he noticed the bulky figure, then recognized his face, and almost popped a round into the smug seraph on the principle of the matter.

"Ah, you came back." The angel walked over to the center of the room. "And I was beginning to believe that you cowards had run in fear from me again." The supercilious glare that angel laid on the brothers was enough to want Dean to smack it off. But he could not for fear of, well, dying. So he decided to ask the angel a question instead.

"Where is Castiel?" Dean had not consciously meant say that. He meant to ask for the rest of the ritual for breaking the Seal, but for some reason, the question ran off his tongue like it had been the first thing on his mind. "I'm tired of dealing with his attack dog."

Uriel blanched at the forthright right question, then stiffened with anger at the comparison. "I'm not a slobbering beast," he spat in unholy anger, "Castiel does not hold my leash. In fact, I've not heard from him in a week!"

Dean stiffened. Uriel was righteously pissed, and Castiel was not there to temper his fury. Dean was beginning to realize that he should not have tried to embarrass the angel. Uriel was not Castiel, and therefore, not able to gracefully endure Dean's frustrated criticisms. Dean thought back to the one time where he had seen Castiel truly angry. The intense power of his anger was stirred only by many insensitive comments from Dean's lips about the angel's integrity and faith, and only after Castiel had suffered the loss of many of his fellow angels to battles Dean could not yet begin to understand.

Awareness shone on Dean, but it was Sam who spoke up. "If you haven't heard from Castiel in a week about on a mission, where is he?"

Dean's mind eye flashed back to something Castiel said the first time he came into Dean's dream: _Six of my brothers died in the field this week._

Uriel did not reply, and the stubborn set to his mouth indicated he was hiding something.

Dean pressed on, "Is he alright? What was he doing? You can't tell me he's just out chasing tail for kicks. I mean the Holy Account Suit he's got on doesn't really scream 'invite me to live with you after we get wasted.'"

Sam shot Dean a horrified look. Dean shrugged.

"Even Castiel would not cavort with your race. A week and a half ago He sent Castiel on a mission to track the demons that plan to open the seal. He hasn't reported back since a week." Uriel admitted. Or was goaded into admitting it. Dean was not sure.

"And he had no backup. Where were you?" Sam asked disgustedly. Uriel to the brothers never seemed anything like what angels should be. All Uriel's jealousy and murderous rage were out of place.

"He never asked me for any assistance. That is not my specialty."

Dean smiled, "I agree with you there – no innocents to smite."

Uriel sucked in a breath and took a heavy step forward. "I am not required to act. That piece of the mission is not part of my orders. And just why am I justifying myself to a mud monkey?"

"'Cause we're adorable." Dean grinned.

"So if there is no sign of Castiel, why haven't you looked for him?" Sam asked, trying to round the conversation back to the matter at hand: namely discovering the full nature of the mess the brothers were running headlong into, and attempting not to be 'smited' themselves.

"To remain undetected from the demons, Castiel dimmed his grace. Also this left him shielded from his brothers. As he has not revealed himself, I can only assume he is still pursuing his mission."

Dean nodded at Uriel's words. "Or he's dead."

Uriel smiled a smile that had no place on a pure being. "I would know if that unfortunate event occurs."

Dean swallowed. _Not a lot of love lost there..._

"Enough of this! Whom have you determined is the target of the Seal – who is it? My superiors have informed me that the target has already been used. Only the second part of the ritual remains to break the Seal." Uriel puffed out his chest, trying to look imposing.

Dean and Sam shared a quick glance. "We don't know a whole lot yet, just a list of psychics that were not taken." Dean did not lie. He just omitted the truth. They did not need a renegade angel smiting the town trying to get Lilith, who not likely even here anymore, when they were working. Turn-a-bout is fair play, after all.

"Useless." They heard a flutter of wings. Uriel disappeared.

"Finally. Good God. What a dick!" Dean shouted at the ceiling.

He strode over to the minibar and cracked the seal. Picking the tiny bottle of the least girly drink, he shot it back, swishing the alcohol in his mouth for a time before he swallowed.

Sam's thought started spill out of his mouth. "So Castiel started tracking these demons a week and a half ago. That gives me a time frame, assuming he started in Wisconsin." Sam typed a bit and went back to a US map laid out on the table. He marked evenly spaced notches on it for days, and gave two notches to a particular area on the map shaded in red. "That's about right. About seven days ago the demons paused. Hmmm. If Castiel is still tracking them, he should be around here somewhere." Sam openly gestured around, indicating general area of the town they were staying in. "I wonder why he hasn't checked in." Dean gave him an incredulous look. Sam stared pensively at the wall. "Well I could understand why he would avoid Uriel on a personal level, but throwing a mission, delaying orders. That's not really like him."

"Yeah, he's the first in line to do God's Will, despite the ramifications." This inconsistency got Dean to think. Something important was sitting on the tip of his tongue. "He told me he was hunting demons in the desert."

"Who did? Castiel told you? When? There are only a few areas on the map that are really considered deserts. That gives us a place to start looking for him. Dean, why didn't you say something before?" Sam stood up from the table, shock etched into his face.

"I didn't really remember. It was from one of those dreams, I think. I don't even remember which one... a few images came to mind just now. I think something is really wrong here." Dean threw back another shot and shuddered.

"Gee, you think?" Ruby walked in and slammed the door behind her.

Both brothers jumped.

"Great hunters you're supposed to be. What if I was Lilith?" Ruby shook her head. Dean snarled and angry curse at her. She ignored his pent-up aggression. "Not the time, I know Sam, whatever. Big news, Lilith was in town."

"Uh, we know." Sam interjected her speech.

Ruby shut her eyes. And opened them. "Oh."

"'Oh.' That's all you got to say? Castiel is missing for a week and could be dead by now, another seal is about to get eaten by one Hell of a polar bear, and our favorite demonic bitch is in town."

Ruby nodded along with Dean's venting rant. "'Oh' sums that up."

* * *

_So, another chapter done. And incase you are hungry for more Castiel, there will be a lot more screen time for him next chapter, I promise.. Also, check out LovingJackson's and Angelustatt's Castiel fics. Definitely the best out there...._

_Remember review make me happy and encourage faster updates. _

_And with that in mind, click the link right below, yes the one green. lol._


	3. The taste of trust

_THANKS TO ALL MY FAITHFUL REVIEWERS, THIS ONE IS FOR YOU GUYS, and EARLY TOO!_

_Also thank you to those who added this as a favourite story and those who added me as a favourite author. Wow, guys, thanks…_

_And last but not least to my beta, OTS, thank you. I hope find it a bit clearer. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Taste of Trust.**

* * *

Dean stood in tense anticipation. The trilling noise he heard could only bring pain and anger. But he had to do this. Castiel depended on him.

"Pamela, it's me Dean Winchester." Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth. He knew well her history with the angel in question, and was fully expecting her reaction. But apparently she did not read minds over the telephone.

"Yah, I know it's a little too early for phone sex. But listen, this is important. I've got a problem... Yah, me and Sam." Dean bit his lip to keep a grin from his face. "Not that kind of problem."

Dean and Sam had stayed in their quaint hotel room after swapping stories with Ruby. Apparently she collected about the same level of information that the brothers had. Lilith was in the area. Something big went down a week ago. And the demonic grapevine had gotten more closed lipped than a chicken. Ruby was sitting at the table eating fries again, examining Sam's map, and transferring the relevant bits she had discovered to it. Sam was reclined on his bed, lightly dozing listening to Dean's conversation. Dean sat in his bed, phone to his ear.

He swallowed. "Um, we have a bigger favour to ask of you. One that you are not particularly going to like." Dean paused and took a big breath. Apparently, Pam broke in impatiently. "Okay, apparently you're one of those people who like the band aid ripped off quickly. You know how we told you about the seals. End of the world apocalypse, eternal damnation for everyone yadda, yadda. The seal we called you about earlier, when we needed to check on all the seers making sure a demon had not run off with one of them, well your favourite angel Castiel might know where those demons are. And we can't find him."

Sam could here Pam's voice over the small cell phone. He idly pried open an eye to stare at Dean as he ripped it away from his ear. The tiny incredulous voice sounded through the connection; "I know you're screwing with me, 'cause if you're asking what I think you're asking..." She stopped for a minute. "That bastard stole my eyes! And you want me to try and contact him again?"

"Yes." Dean's solemn answer hung in the air. "He's missing and is probably in trouble. His buddy doesn't give a damn. We're supposed to fix it."

"If his 'buddy doesn't give a damn,' why do you?" Pam asked, just as loud. "Why do 'we' have to fix it?"

"End of the world. Apocalypse." Ruby chimed in, loud enough to carry through the phone line.

"Shut up, hell-bitch." Dean snapped. "Pam, please, we'll make sure you don't get burned again. I promise. It's just that, the more I think about it... Castiel's been trying to contact me through my dreams. He's done it before, but something is muddling them up. And something that can screw with angel power, well that can't be good for the rest of us."

Dean waited and let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, I understand. Talk to you later." He closed the phone. "Damnit. She's freaked. She said she's thinking about it."

"Well that sounds very promising. And remind me, why are we sticking our necks out for an angel again? Why can't he just fly out of there?" Ruby stood up and started pacing.

"Cause if he was going to, Castiel would have already!" Dean shouted. His face turned crimson. "I mean if we don't have our allies' backs, the only thing between this world and Hell is going to be the three of us. You with your knife, me with a shotgun, and Sam with his damn freaky mojo powers. What's Lucifer going to do when he sees us?"

Ruby sullenly waved a hand in 'go on' gesture. She at least looked a bit chastised.

The elder Winchester took a step back. "I don't know, didn't really think that part through. Probably torturing and kill us." Dean nodded definitively, "yep, torture and kill us."

"Good Dean." Sam sighed. "But I think if we aren't going to come up with a brilliant battle plan, we should just get some rest."

Dean stared at him and nodded. "Demon bitch has to go to her own room. I don't want her in here when we're sleeping." Ruby huffed and looked at Sam.

"It's not a huge problem for me, Dean." Sam stated.

"Well I wasn't the one boinking her all summer, okay? And besides, I paid for miss black eyes to have her own room. What's the little Chinese guy going to think when she doesn't use her towels?" Dean nodded to prove that he had a valid point.

"Okay, I'll go. It's not like I haven't saved both of your lives or anything." She strode towards the door, map bundled in her arms.

Sam called after, "We'll see you in the morning..."

Dean cut Sam off. "No earlier than ten. Us hunters need our beauty sleep."

"Is that what's wrong?" Ruby shut the door behind her.

"Out!"

* * *

Dean lay in his bed, relaxed and staring at the ceiling. His green eyes blinked slowly, staring blankly at the beige stipling over his head. He could still taste the Jack Daniels in his mouth. The fan in the room rotated slowly sending dust off blades filtering down through the air. It sprinkled through the air slowly, drifting, floated. He inhaled softly, trying not to breathe more in than was possible. The air tasted dry. He shivered and awaited who he knew would come. The dust swirled suddenly, spirally around a cylindrical shape.

Castiel did not disappoint, and his form appeared in a blink at Dean's bedside. His hair was neatly pushed back, his face somber and passive, his electric blue eyes glowing in the dark. His tie was tight, though, around his neck. Castiel's khaki coloured coat settled stiffly on the forms shoulders. Dean beheld it fearfully, for some reason its presence disturbed him.

"Castiel, you're looking very good tonight, who's the date?" Dean taunted the angel's appearance because he felt he had to. A compulsion pulled at him, making him talk. For Castiel's part, Dean might have mistaken him for a statue. The angel stood there unblinking, expressionless, and empty. Dean sat up and waved a hand in front of Castiel's face. The form of the angel did not appear to notice. Dean's eyes narrowed, not sure if he should be angry for being snubbed, or worried about the strangely hollow person before him.

"Uriel says he doesn't know where you are. Or more importantly, where the demons are." Nothing showed on Castiel's perfect un-smudged face. It was like he thought Dean was trying to interrogate him. Castiel's pokerface could have earned him millions in Vegas. "You think that maybe your bosses would like to know where the Seal is? You're going to loose the angel of the year award for sure if you keep up with this attendance record." Dean felt as though he was talking to a short brick wall. He could almost feel his voice echoing back to him. "What the Hell, Sam and I would like to know what is going on." Dean was losing his temper.

"You're the one who came to me. You're the one who dragged me out of Hell so I could work for your God. You are my appointed angel. I am getting tired of working with that pompous hammer you drag along for fire power." Not a trace of emotion flickered through the angel's visage during Dean's tirade.

Dean's expression creased. Something occurred to him. The corner of his lips turned up. "Purple flaming monkey poo. White elephant dishwasher. Uriel is the prettiest angel I've ever seen wearing a toga diaper. Prettier than you." Absolutely nothing. _This is the weirdest dream that I've ever had. I mean there isn't a naked chick running around anywhere. In fact, God, all there is Castiel and Sam._ Dean thought and shuddered in spite of himself. It was a weird thought, if you can think in a dream.

Castiel's head snapped to the side. One hand came to his throat, and gripped the tie there tightly. "Dean Winchester. What are you doing here?"

The room changed. An outdoors scene interposed on the small hotel room. The colours phased and shifted to place in the wilderness. Dean was suddenly crouched in a sand ditch beside a dirt road, next to the angel. Harsh sunlight temporarily blinded Dean. He blinked to readjust, and suddenly Castiel was walking away from him. Dean stared at the figure's back. Castiel's trench coat collar was pulled up straight, shielding his neck from the sun. The wind whipped at Castiel, but Dean could not feel its breeze. The angel was crouching as he waded through the blowing sand. His foot falls made no noise; his shoes left no tracks in the sand. "Where are you going?" Castiel did not respond. Dean watched feeling no need to move, and could not have moved. Castiel approached a small group of people. Twelve people with eyes of white and black stopped when a small towheaded girl raised her hand.

"Here, I think." The demons spread widely and looked to the girl with alert concentration. She looked to the scenery. The mountains could be seen in the distance. The flat desert was unmarred except for the rocky boulder from which Castiel spied on them. Sun light illuminated the spot where Castiel stood; clouds overcast the rest of the area. Dean watched the highlighted figure line up against the rock, remaining hidden from the demon's eyes.

Castiel leaned in closely, and whispered something that Dean should not have been able to hear. "There, they have been walking four days for that spot." The angel's head cocked in confusion and continued with his self monologue. Perhaps he was communicating with God. "There is no nexus of energy there, nothing that would aid Lilith in opening a seal. There is such a void of energy, it could only hamper power at that spot." He looked up and cocked his head. "I wonder, wonder if you are even receiving this..." His calm voice trailed off.

Dean could almost taste the confusion radiating off the angel as he watch the group spread into a large circle. Lilith was at its center. She bowed her head and was muttering indistinctly at the ground. Suddenly her eyes went white, and she smiled a surprised smile like that of little girl getting a puppy for her birthday.

Dean could only watch as Lilith disappeared, then reformed beside the angel. "Hi, don't you know it's impolite to spy on people? If you wanted to join in, you should have asked." Castiel turned stiffly away from Dean and laid a hand on the little girl's head. "Oh silly, you should know better than that." She grabbed his hand and started to chant. The angel's eyes went as wide as they could, and his breath convulsed in his throat. Castiel leaped backwards, straight into the arms of a slim young demon, with black eyes. Castiel grabbed her arms that encircled his waist, and threw her forward blocking him from an onrush of demons. He twisted in her grasp of his wrists so that he was face to face her with her. Castiel took a glancing punch to the jaw. The demon's defenses were open, so he briefly laid a hand on her head, and a bright light emitted from her eyes and mouth. A young woman fell to the desert floor crying.

Dean felt pressure flowing down on him. He could barely blink eyes, let alone get up and fight in the dream. If it was a dream. Dean was not so sure. Why would he dream about this?

Castiel smashed his right fist in a large burly man with white eyes, and quickly sidestepped a black-eyed teenager's dive at him. He spun stepping over the teenager's falling body, and pressed a hand to the back of the kid's head. His coat flared out behind him, covering what Dean was sure would have been a bright white light. Castiel took a hard blow to the ribs, sending him tripping sideways. His left hand hit the ground. Tucking into a roll, he pressed his shoulder into the ground to come up facing the remaining eleven damned. He sat in a crouch, and pulled his long coat off his shoulders, laying it neatly on the ground, along with a black suit jacket.

"Cristo" he muttered. And eleven bodies simultaneously jumped to glare at the angel. Dean surmised it was some sort of distraction tactic because angels did not swear. Castiel gracefully stood, straightened his legs so he could look down on Lilith.

"I am going to ask you to leave these shells. It is the only warning I will give you." Castiel said with a dangerous calm voice with a hint of anger adding more roughness to his breath. His eyes glittered chillingly. Dean only wished that he could help Castiel back up his implied threat.

The peals of the little girl's laughter outlasted the general guffaw of the group. "Oh, I think you are lost. See, we know what you would have had to do to remain under our senses so long. We know you can't just leave." She nodded perfunctory and then beamed up at him, a look that had no place on a demon. "But when we all got here, and I realized what an opportunity this was…I mean, what is the phrase? Two birds with one stone. I get an angel and..." She smiled impishly. "And you can put together the rest." She reached behind herself and pulled a black ring out of the folds of her dress. Castiel stared at it in blank wonderment as ten hell spawn rushed him.

"How did you get that?" He asked serenely as he dodged the first two demons to attack him. Then he caught a fist of the third, and looked into the soul of the body the demon was riding, asking forgiveness. He then bent the arm backwards, snapping it like a dry twig. The demon howled, stepping back, blocking the part of the onrush.

Dean winced at the noise. It reminded him too much of time spent in hell.

The break did not last for long. White-eyed demons swarmed up close to the angel, pressing in on him, and started batting Castiel's vessel around like a hot potato. Demon strength powered fists, elbows, and knees flew at the angel. He recoiled from harsh hits to his torso, remaining on his feet only from the equal violence coming from all sides. The angel blocked what blows he could, broke a few more of his aggressors' bones, but Dean could see the singular angel was outmatched for his numerous opponents. Dean could feel his guts twisting as Castiel was sagging, his guard dropping, but he was ejected from the circle.

The body flew through the air to land at Lilith's feet. He landed face down, his head almost on her white runners. He pushed himself up on his forearms, and blood dripped down his scalp. A tear of blood dripped down his face to his lips. The small girl broke the solid collar in two and clasped it around the angel's neck. "There, look at the pretty one I picked out. Now all the demons know you belong to me. Not that I won't let them play with you. It's important to share." Castiel's eyes flickered to her face. The angel's eyes squinted, shadowing the blue orbs. He stood up and laid a palm on her small head. Clouds covered the sun shining on the angel.

"Omnis protest-" That was as far as Dean heard the angel get before he gagged on the blood that came rushing out of his mouth in thick viscous swells. His irises had a thick white rim all the way around as the angel threw back his head in desperation to get a breath. Castiel choked and brought a dirty hand up to wipe it from his face. Dean could almost tasted his own life's blood, sweat, and dirt staining his lips as Castiel frantically tried to clean it away. It was the taste of death. Both hands went to the collar around his neck as he fell to his knees. Dean straightened and took a single step to rush the horde surrounding his ally.

And was then he was back in bed, his body wrapped up in scratchy over-bleached sheets. Dean looked quickly for the angel to appear with him. Castiel stilled kneeled at Dean's bedside, his face bloody, his breath laboured, his hand contorted around the perfectly smooth collar around his neck. His words to Dean were barely choked out. "Dean, get some rest. We'll need it."

Dean shot awake gripping the cotton sheet in his hand. Sam's hand hovered above his shoulder. "I was deciding if I was going to wake you or not. You looked kind of strange, Dean."

"Thanks." Sarcasm dripped of the words, only mitigated by an edge of worried panic.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You were really still, but you were moaning like I've never heard before." Sam looked with open concern at his brother. "Was it, uh. Was it Hell?"

Dean looked sardonically up at his brother. "You could say that. I remember a little. And it is definite. Lilith managed to get her claws into Castiel. And it's not pretty."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "What, really? That's not good."

Dean stiffened. "We need to haul ass and find them." He catapulted out of bed and started dressing.

"Dean, slow down. Do you even know where they are?" Sam held up a hand to block his brother's way. Dean blinked in comprehension. And swore.

"Um, I think I forgot that part." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "God dammit!"

A knocking sound on their door announced Ruby's voice. "If you're up, I have an idea."

Dean shared a resigned look with Sam. "Couldn't hurt. I mean we have a whole lot of nothing."

* * *

Castiel sucked in a breath after Lilith's dainty hand slapped him awake. "What were you doing just now?" He hung from ropes tied to rotting rafters. His wrists were chafed painfully and his arms stretched above his bowed head. His hair was stuck flat to his head with sweat and blood. Castiel opened his right eye, as his left was sealed shut from dry blood that must have pooled there as he rested. His upper body, covered only in the bloody white dress shirt missing most of its buttons, was curled up to ease the pull against broken ribs and the sharp ache of internal injuries. His legs, not bearing any weight were folded underneath him in a stiff bend. "You can't call for help. Who were you talking to?" The little girl's voice piqued in interest.

Castiel remained quiet. If Lilith really wanted an answer, then she would use the collar to force one from him. Not that it worked, yet. His will _was not_ broken. His grace persisted despite being bound and muted. But Castiel knew of the item borne of Hell fire that wrapped around his neck, knew it was designed to break anyone's will, even the devil himself. But Castiel's faith lasted, for now, and still protected him, for a time.

Castiel looked past the small girl and studied his surroundings. He lifted his head to look at the ropes that had been suspending him from the roof for the past week. He was stationed just off center of a wide clearing in a decrepit warehouse. The clearing itself was uninteresting. A single demonic sign was etched into the dirt floor; spotlights run by a gas generator outside highlighted the area. Crates were strewn haphazardly around the room, a label bearing the previous company name on some. Light filtered in from holes in the ceiling made from weather and animals. He stared into the thin rays, hoping that this last message had gotten through to Dean.

Castiel had been trying to walk in Dean's dreams as he had done before, the nature of his link to the eldest Winchester, a bond formed in hell, was a loophole Castiel mistakenly discovered. He had locked himself in his mind and was reaching for contact with his Father and the other angels, but the only thread he could find had been to Dean. The flimsy and weak thread he had followed, trying to alert others of his predicament but everything was working against him. All of his mental strength he had to bring to bear against Lilith. And what diminutive strength he had left, and his many injuries muddled his forays into Dean's well fortified mind.

Pain was something he had experienced on an ethereal level before. Being an angel, especially a warrior for God, did not exempt one from unpleasant conditions. It was his extreme tolerance and ability to persist despite pressure that earned him a job that would have sent lesser angels to utter despair. Pulling Dean out of Hell by the shoulder had been a job Castiel was personally selected for by his repute of being unshakable. No, his mortal injuries were noticed, the stinging, grating, aching, pulling, tearing, burning, throbbing pains were all present, but he dissociated from what he could not affect. To focus on the solution, not the problem.

"Oh tell me. You know how much I dislike secrets. Unless they are wonderful surprises for me! Like I never knew that angels could do this." She scrunched up her small freckled face and Castiel's breath was stolen away.

When the other demons tortured him, he knew when to expect the blows. Castiel would watch the demons. He made it his business to know their habits. How they would walk or tense up before they launched a strike. Castiel knew how hard the blows were. And how much it would hurt him. How long the initial sharp pain would last. The physical blows were shocking, but even his bound power provided some fortitude and healing to his mortal vessel.

But Castiel could feel that strength ebbing, nothing he used was replenished by his grace and could not be, as long as the collar sat around his neck – an ever present reminder of his fate. Castiel discovered quickly not to heal every blow, only those that would kill his vessel, for his own power could not last much longer. Only a few broken bones – his cheek and his left leg, deep bruises, and a troublesome head injury remained. The rest were flesh wounds that he could deal with in time, providing a miracle. If there was no miracle, it would not matter for much longer. Lilith was growing impatient. He needed to reserve his power for chances to contact the one he was linked to. The one he had touched in perdition, the only one the collar could allow him to contact. But he always felt so confused, dizzy, weak, and so unlike himself. He was not sure that any part of his message was reaching Dean at all.

The pain Lilith gave him was not physical, but spiritual, mental blows at the shield that protected his inner thoughts, to guard his psyche and knowledge from the mind reading demons. The pain was random, intermittent, and something that no mortal ever faced, that no mortal could understand. Unless they had been in Hell. Only through the thrice damned collar could Lilith do such injury to angel she did not have in Hell.

Castiel realized that he would have still been screaming, had he the breath. His eye had slipped closed again. It kept doing that. He could not summon the resilience to stay awake for very long. Except when the demons were interrogating him. Then he pulled out the most serene facade he could muster and bore it with as much indifference as he could. Castiel suspected it only prolonged the torture. But it gave him a certain satisfaction to watch the self assured demons exhaust themselves with no reward. Then he would offer a biting prayer for their strength.

He felt the little girl step back as Lilith dropped the bombardment of his mind. "Who were you trying to contact? Or I'll make you cry again." Castiel did not let his indifferent facade drop but he inwardly balked at her words. When did he cry? He could not remember, but he knew it to be true. "You were begging God to come find you. But He didn't. So I kept you company instead." His eye closed again. Strange swirling feelings made him feel as though the room rotated around him. His vessel's stomach rose up to the back of his throat. His head pounded suddenly; he could barely hear her last words. "Did you like that time we had together? I sure did."

Castiel opened his treacherous eye again, and glared balefully into the little girl's smug face. She took a hesitant step back. And then her temper rose, knowing she'd been cowed. Two demons lined up around him and began a systematic circuit of abuse as Lilith reopened her connection to batter his soul.

He felt it all distinctly for less than a minute. The demons physical attack tearing at his strength; Lilith's mental attack ripping at his soul. Then a blow caught him behind the ear. All senses faded, Castiel's mind faded, until it was just him and Lilith. She threw power at him, enraged, aggressive attacks, until all that was left of his mind was what he hid behind his mental shields slowly unraveling at the edges. Then even Lilith faded from his mind too. The damage she was wreaking no longer registered in the sensory overload.

With that, Castiel dove into true unconsciousness.

* * *

_So that's it for three. And I might, add two days earlier than I said it would be updated. Doesn't that and all of the Castiel goodness deserve a review? Please? Pretty Please?_

_**Reviews do make my update faster. There is a very direct correlation.** _


	4. The feeling of trust

_SO, to start off, I am wowed by all the reviews I got. I totally made my week!!!! It also gave me a nice diversion from studying, lol, checking my email every 10mins compulsively for days. (Yeah, I know, I have no self control....)_

_WOW!!!_

_Thanks to my wonderful beta OTS. Any remaining mistakes are mine when I went over the chapter after getting it back from her._

_So, here you guys go!_

* * *

**Chapter 4: The feeling of trust**

* * *

The Impala was double-parked across from the county sheriff's office on the extra wide main street of the town. The buildings all had a two story facade common to many older western towns. Everything in the county sheriff's building was in wood: floors, walls, ceilings - all of it. An old style cell was even in the far corner of the room, but it was full of filing cabinets and office supplies. Dean thought it was amusing, and decided that their covers should have been Texas Rangers. Sam thought Dean needed to grow up.

The Winchesters waited in a small area for the sheriff to get off the phone. From what Dean could hear, the sheriff was deciding what he wanted for dinner and was talking to what Dean hoped was a very small child. 'Important county business.' Yeah right. The guy even had a real missing persons on his hands. Not that he was ever going to find the girl. So with this evidence, when the sheriff poked his head out of his office and looked all of twenty five years old, Dean was not surprised.

"I'm sorry. I was just tied up in some business, gentlemen." The man waved them into his small office area. "I hear you came into town for the Lila Michael case." Dean and Sam entered the little room and had a seat into back breaking wooden chairs.

"Yes, we believe the case we are working on might be related to that incident." Dean took on an authoritative tone and straightened the collar of the sport coat he was wearing. "We are looking for any information you may have collected so far. Our office would greatly appreciate any local assistance you may have to give us with this matter." The look Sam gave Dean clearly said Dean was laying it on a little thick. Dean shrugged in response. Too late now.

The sheriff looked perplexed as he ran his finger through his short sandy hair. "What kinda case are you two working? Missing Persons too?" The man slouched backwards in his padded computer chair, reaching for a manila folder behind his head.

Dean shared a conspiratorial look with his brother. "It's confidential, but possibly a kidnapping."

"Oh, hum. That's weird. We've had a couple other people not show up for work around here lately. Mostly lowlifes though. No real reports have been filed on them so far." The sheriff handed Sam a small pile of papers and nodded. "I got photocopies, so don't worry about returning them."

"Thank you. Is this all the stuff you have so far on Lila?" Sam asked noticing the suspiciously tiny pile.

"Yeah, it's really strange. The father said the girl just walked out the front door to go play. Then she disappeared off the face of the planet." The sheriff looked frustrated. "The father didn't even report it for a couple days 'cause he thought the girl was going camping with the church group."

Dean quirked his mouth thinking about what the cougar from the local bar had remembered Lilith saying. _Playing with her angels alright._ "Wow, you guys seem like you're really on top of things here. Do you have any leads on her whereabouts? Are there any abandoned old buildings in the area where the girl could be?" Dean leaned and put his hands on the edge of a large wooden desk. "Any warehouses?"

The sheriff looked at Dean through the corner of his eye. "Honestly, that kinda cliché, but yeah. There was supposes to be a major industry airport built here about twenty years ago, but plans fell through. But it was too late for some of the business owners; they'd already put up some buildings in the desert. Nice flat place. Good for an air field. All that land's been bought back by the government. Nothing active out there right now. You can't see any of that from any road, though. How'd you know to ask?"

Dean gave the man a surreptitious smile. "Inside information."

With that Sam and Dean bade the young sheriff farewell, and headed out to the nearest airport.

Settling in the Impala, with Metallica faintly playing in the background, Dean looked suspiciously at the person, no – _demon_, in the back seat. "So explain to me how this plan of yours works again."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "We go pick up Pam from the airport. Then, as you think deeply - I know that's hard for you." She stopped speaking to return Dean's glare. "I know Sam. Time. Place." She continued. "-Pam reads your mind, helping you to remember your dreamscapades with angel boy. And as you remember them, I try a location spell to narrow down the search parameters."

"Yeah, but how did you get Pam to help, let alone fly out here?" Dean looked pointedly at Ruby as if she was supposed to understand that that was what he had asked in the first place.

"Simple. I made a deal with her." Ruby smiled softly. Then rolled her eyes skyward when both the Winchesters turned around making highly annoyed squeaking noises at her, and pinned her to the seat with twin betrayed glowers. "Not that kind of deal guys. Just that if she'd help you out, Dean, that you'd see about getting her some kind of apology from the angels. Plus there might have been a favour or two thrown in there."

"That's it? We have to convince Castiel, the more likely of the two angels to agree, even with the probably torture, pain and all around badness, to kiss her ass. That's going to happen." Dean sighed deeply. "Plus she's going to read my mind the second we pick her up and figure out that she's been lied to. That's going to go over well."

"Don't forget the favours. She suggested them." Ruby lifted her two fingers.

* * *

A few hours later, back at the hotel, Dean was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. The off-white stucco was starting to arrange itself into patterns, constellations really. A bird taking flight, a shotgun blast, and a pair of large really nice –

"Dean, are you even trying?" Ruby whined.

She had a local map with a bunch of runes drawn on it in 'special' sand spread out beside him, with a couple of candles lit around them.

"Dean, just try to concentrate. Pam's doing her best here. You need to too." Sam bit in, snapping his fingers in front of Dean's face.

"Okay Dean, pick a spot on the ceiling. It's okay, I want you to lay there relaxed and look at that spot without blinking. You may feel your eyelids starting to get heavy." Pam droned on in a smooth, soft, easy voice.

"How wasn't I doing that before?" Dean asked in somewhat petulant tone.

"DEAN!" Pam snapped. "You started giggling about the constellation Uranus."

"Oh, sorry."

"Let start, again."

A few minutes went by, and Dean was now lying relaxed on his bed, eyes shut, face blank and relaxed. Pam put one hand on his left shoulder where Castiel had gripped Dean to drag him out of hell. "What do you remember about your dreams? Think back. Where were you?"

Dean did not answer.

"Dean where were you. Were you talking with Castiel?" Pam intoned gently, though everyone aware in the room could hear her disgust when the angel's name rolled off her lips.

"Yes. We were in the motel rooms, and in the car once." Dean frowned. All of a sudden some of the sand on Ruby's map darkened at the spot where they were.

"Well at least we know the spell is working." Ruby said quietly. "Even if this doesn't help us at all."

"Did you see him anywhere else Dean? At a warehouse, maybe?" Pam prodded.

"It was dark. There were spotlights. Crates. A dirt floor. The crates have labels on them. Lavelleè's Detergent." Dean paused to take a breath. Sam quickly scrawled down the name into a notebook.

"Was Castiel there?" Pam asked again.

Dean's eyes flew open as he gasped. "We need to go now. Cas, hang on we're coming. Hang on." His back arched until only his heals and shoulders contacted the bed. Sam could see the strain in Dean's face and neck muscles, saw him gritting his teeth. Sweat started to pour of Dean's forehead, dampening his hair. His fingers curled into white knuckled fists. His body flew into a seizure for a second.

Ruby's map started to smoke in one spot, in the middle of the park land. She went black eyed and ripped it off the bed, patting out the small fire that burned into the blanket. The smell of smoke filled the air. Sam desperately hoped the fire alarm would not go off.

Pam tightened her grip on Dean's shoulder. "Okay, time to wake up. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1." Dean relaxed, and sagged boneless into the mattress. But he did not open his eyes.

"Pamela. Why isn't he waking up like Anna did?" Sam asked, worry etching his voice.

"I don't know. When I mentioned the angel's name the second time, I felt Dean grab at something, in his mind. I let him, I thought it was a memory. But then he pushed me out of his head. Someone else is in there with him right now." Pamela wiped her face with a sleeve. "I don't know who it is."

She then closed her eyes, a placed one hand on Dean's forehead. "I conjure and command you, show me your face." She repeated it rhythmically, over and over, more forcefully each time. "I conjure and command you show me your face." She grimaced. "You can't hide from me. I conjure and command you, SHOW ME YOUR FACE!" She then visibly winced and let go of Dean's head. "Oh god!" She flew back, and was caught in Sam's waiting arms.

Dean's eye flew open widely.

"Pamela, stop!"

Dean sat up and rubbed his head with his knuckles between his eyes closing them in pain. "I have one hell of a headache. Thanks for that you two." He mumbled indistinctly. Sam knew he was referring to Pamela, but who else was Dean talking about?

He straightened in the bed, sitting up to frown at the psychic. "Ow. I really hope we got something out of that cause, damn." He opened eyes again to glare at the two women in the room. "Ruby, please tell me your witchy stuff worked. 'Cause that cost me a whole lot of brain cells, and Pamela started ripping into Castiel. And I can tell you that is not a good thing for any of us."

Sam paled, but Pam spoke up first. "What do you mean, Castiel? That was the angel who went into your mind when I did? It sure did not feel like his aura. And trust me when I say I know what his presence feels like." She pushed herself out of Sam's arms and sat beside Dean on the bed.

"It was him alright. I don't know if I reached out to him trying to remember the dreams, or if he sensed I was in la la land, but Castiel tried to come talk to me. He just showed up when you, Pam, started to butt back in. The he just went poof, and disappeared. Like a Genie." Dean shrugged at the psychic. "He didn't look happy."

"Do you remember better now?" Sam inquired, ignoring Dean implications.

"Yeah, more of it is coming together. I know Lilith has him, and how she caught him. But I can't figure out the where the warehouse is, and the why, which is kinda important. I'd be a little more confident about this plan if we knew why Lilith wanted an angel toy."

"Its Looney Tunes plans." Ruby put in.

Three heads snapped to look at her, as she was extinguishing the ritual candles around the room. "Well it is."

"Geek boy. You need to start looking up all the black collars you can find. Lilith put one around Cas's neck. That's why he hasn't angelled up and found us yet. Got to be pretty powerful to screw with angel mojo. Ruby, start in on your people, someone has got to know something." Dean scratched his head again. "I don't think we have a lot of time left here. Lilith wants Castiel for more than just an angelic torture toy. He hasn't told me what for though yet. He just keeps hinting at it like it's a riddle we're supposed to have solved already." Dean glared up at the ceiling. "Probably has something to do with the seal. Pam, thanks for the help, we'll get home as soon as possible. And me, I need a drink." He sniffed the air. "Was something burning?"

Ruby rolled her eyes.

* * *

That night Dean sat at the table, reading old company reports Sam had printed out, cross referencing the warehouses in the district Ruby's spell had narrowed it to. Unfortunately, it was larger than they had intended, what with the relevant part of the map being temporarily on fire, to the label he remembered from the dreams he had with the angel. He shook himself sharply when his head hit the table in front of him. He needed to keep going. He had not yet found a match for what he wanted.

"Dean Winchester." A small voice sounded from behind him.

Dean turned around and smiled. "Well this is a familiar dream." He swung his leg over the chair, so he could lean against the back rest. The lamp that lit up the desk behind him blinded Dean initially from seeing Castiel's face. "I'd comment on your clothes, but no one has ever looked better in rags."

The angel sat on the floor, leaning against Dean's empty bed. His head rested on the top of the mattress. The black collar encircled his neck. It stood out of the darkness, made the shadows around it seem like daylight in comparison. His hair did not stand up wildly like it usually did, and his coat was absent. The shirt the angel wore hung in tatters off his chest, though Dean could see no obvious injury to the angel. Castiel sat there, flaccid, and his head rolled down so that his chin rested on his chest. The angel fingered the tie that hung on his chest, still, absently threading it around his fingers.

"We got to stop meeting like this." Dean made a move to stand up. And he did. Dean blinked in the dream. Not once was before had he been able to move around of his own will. He walked over to squat in front of the angel. His shoes made no sound when the slid across the carpet. "Hey, Castiel. What do you need to tell me?"

"I don't need anything. I am busy with my orders." The angel responded automatically.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Well that makes sense. What orders?"

The angel did not immediately respond. He sat on the ground, and a faint confused look stole over his features. He cocked his head in the fashion that he often did when Dean said something, or did something that was uniquely human.

"Recon. Upper level demons are congregating. We're not yet aware of the reason." The angel wetted his lips. "It's hot down here". And the angel stared past Dean into the lamp light. His eyes fixed on the bulb, unblinking. Dean turned around to look at the light. As he turned back, for a second out of the corner of his eye, Castiel was hanging from the roof by his hands. But Dean blinked, and stared back in the darkness where Castiel sat with his legs stretched out in front of him on the brown shag carpet.

"Yeah, you told me that already. Where are you now? Where does Lilith have you?" Dean kneeled at the angel's side glancing worriedly at the man, angel, whatever. A simple cut appeared on Castiel's forehead, and started dripping blood across his face. The small tear of blood ran down his cheek, and fell on to his dirty white shirt, mingling with other stains.

"Lilith." The room wavered and started to give way to a desert scene. Harsh sunlight began to blind Deans eyes, wind tousled Castiel's hair.

"No, you don't. You showed me that already. I remember. Stay here!" Dean snapped the command to the angel. Abruptly everything flashed back to the motel room. Castiel looked up at Dean, his dull unfocused eyes centered on Dean's face. Dean felt weariness roll off the angel. Pain, exhaustion, and burning desire to be free rang in Castiel's eyes. They glowed slightly, increasing in feverish intensity when Castiel made eye contact, but Dean looked away. Dean could never be able to hold the angel's penetrating gaze.

"There is a Seal. Uriel does not know which one." The angel stated out loud, though it sounded as if the Castiel was trying to affirm the information himself. The angel's shoulders started to shake. His jaw clenched. He took a ragged breath.

"The Sight of a Seer." Dean informed the angel. And then Dean on instinct grabbed Castiel's left shoulder hard. The angel did not pull away from him. "Come on. We've had this conversation before. You know what's going on. You're with the demons. If you want us to come rescue you, you have to give me a little more to work with than flashes of the insides of dirty old buildings. I'm not psychic you know." Dean smirked a little then stopped.

Castiel's cheek turned black, and the eye on that side was suddenly swollen shut. "I have not caught up with the demons yet. However, I have discerned their direction of travel." The room flashed out again. Dean almost saw the outline of crates before he shook the angel again, grounding them both in the motel room. Dean glanced fearfully at the angel. Even in the dream, Dean knew that Castiel was not with it. Not thinking straight. Not alright.

"Then what was that?" Dean asked releasing Castiel's arm. More blood appeared on the angel's shirt. "What's this?" He gestured to the wounds spontaneously appearing on the angel's body. Dean frowned at a deep gash along the angel's breastbone, and pushed a hand against it to put pressure on the wound.

Castiel hissed in pain. "I am out in the desert. The demons are about to stop. I don't know why." His face winced in response to pain, contorting. The angel's eyes opened wide in shock.

"That happened a week ago. Cas!" Dean gripped the angel's shoulder hard. "Come on, where are you now? Can you tell me anything else? Cas!" Dean half hoped that his use of the nick name would antagonize the angel into thinking straight.

"No. That is happening now. It has to be." The angel's form wavered in and out of existence. Dean reached with both hands to hold the angel in place.

"Enough of this ghosty, 'show you the past,' Christmas carol crap. I got it. You don't." Dean grabbed the angel's chin and forced the glazed stare of angel into his eyes. "You have been with Lilith for over a week. Tell me where you are so we can save your sanctimonious ass!"`

Castiel's eyes cleared for a brief second. Then, he opened them. Dean shivered as awareness flooded from the ange's eyes. "I am sorry Dean. I am trying. I can't with this collar around my neck... It is pulling my Grace from me. I cannot." He shuddered and looked over Dean's shoulder. "Lilith is here. The Seal cannot fall."

The angel's eyes widened, and his right arm made the sign of the cross over his chest. He focused on something Dean could not see and steeled himself to withstand what Dean could guess was a soul wrenching assault.

The angel shook in terror, and screamed. A piercing, wailing, tormented scream. Dean grabbed him harder. Castiel took a raged breath, visibly brining himself back to Dean. "Four demons left with me. Lilith is here. Don't come alone. It's due south of where I left my coat." The angel looked at Dean lucidly for the first time and trembled. "Please do not tarry. The second part of the ritual occurs tomorrow night. We cannot loose this Seal, this battle. Dean Winchester don't let my faith in you be in vain." The angel started to fade out. Dean's hand slipped through the angel's incorporeal shoulder.

"Damn it. God, why are you letting this happen?" Dean felt panic swell over him. Castiel was being dragged off, out of Dean's head to be tortured, again. Desperation set in. Dean grabbed at the only thing that still looked like it was whole. The black collar. It burned Dean's hand like fire, it froze Dean's hand like ice, it pierced Dean's hand like a thousand knives. It felt like Death.

The rest of the angel rushed back to the room, tangible. Dean let go, his hand was agonizingly numb. Castiel was panting. His breath came in quick short bursts. "Dean, I suggest... Suggest you hurry. Lilith will discover..." Blood bubbled down the angel's chin. "What I am…I am doing. She'll find you." The angel's chest and breathing were making wheezing sounds. "I can't let that happened." The last part was said in one breath. The angel's chest tightened, and convulsed. He tried to make Dean let go, tried to push Dean away from him.

Dean persisted, not letting the angel go. If there was one fault that Dean had, it was not being able to let things go. Dean's fingers of his left hand dug into the collar, and his right fingers seized the angel's shoulder, with all of his strength.

Dean swore. "Come on God, Uriel. Now would be a good time to butt in. I'll start praying every day. I'll stop swearing. I'll-"

Castiel clasped Dean's arm, the one that held Castiel's shoulder. The angel weakly pulled Dean down, so his ear was closer to the angel's mouth. "Do not be blasphemous." The angel gave Dean a bloody sarcastic smile.

Dean let out a chuckle that sounded more like a sob.

"My throat. It burns like hell-fire." Came a whisper from the angel's mouth.

Dean wiped blood from the angel's mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "How do you know?"`

The angel looked surprised at Dean, and cocked his head. "Been there."

Then Dean woke up.

* * *

_**GENERAL REVIEWER RESPONSES**__, because I love responding to reviews, even though fanfic does not want us to anymore in the chapter itself, and there were many of you this time who did not sigh in._

_I was very touched and encourage by all the reviews. I found they fell in to 4 basic types. 1. To all of you who felt that I should save Cas right away, I respond "But then I can't torture him anymore, Its all the hurt taken out of the hurt/comfort." 2. To all those who enjoyed Angel-FU, "I too would like to see way more on the show!" 3. To all who enjoyed the interrogation at the end, "this is really strange, but it was my favourite scene to write thus far, does that make us weird?" 4. And to those that though this would make a good episode/kept them entertained until January "That's exactly why I wrote this. To keep me entertained. LOL. Plus the reviews are major ego boosters!"_

_SO...._

_On that note. REVIEW AGAIN!!!!! See if it worked this time, ie the chapter came out a day and half early, it will likely work again._

_**PLEASE REVIEW, IT MAKES ME HAPPY, and trust me, IT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY NEXT WEEK!!!!**_


	5. To be rescued?

_Once again, you reviewers are too kind, and well appreciated. I got a few really detailed reviews, and they were much appreciated!_

_So without a lot of further ado, Chapter Five, EARLY, so be thankful! (and by that review when you are finished!)_

_And thanks to my busy, patient beta OTS! As well as a friend who twisted my arm to read this first and "gammaed" pro bono…_

* * *

**Chapter Five: To be rescued?**

* * *

The world was dark.

Forces pressed on him from all sides and avenues keeping him small and subdued, except for the cord pulling him up out of the thick heavy pile and towards the small light at that was his center. All feelings were muted. He could not see, he could not hear, he could not taste, and he could not feel. Grays coiled around him, fluid and conforming however he tried to move, wrapping him in an unconscious, senseless array. The gray surrounded the small light that flickered weakly at his core. The light pushed back, attempting to reveal to him where he was, what he was. But it was fading fast. All he could perceive anymore was nothingness. Nothing was left here of him. Nothing was around him. All except the constant force ripping him towards-

Towards what he did not know. He could not remember. But he shivered and wondered why the nothing had frightened him.

"Castiel. You aren't listening to me." A voice, small and devilishly sweet, penetrated the gloomy embrace he was locked in. It sounded quiet at first, until his hearing faded back in. Castiel tried to move towards it. He knew he was supposed to answer. Suddenly he felt his own voice freed up, he was allowed to answer. He wanted to answer.

"What did you ask?" His grating voice stumbled at the end. Slowly his thoughts caught up through the mire that had muddled his brain. _No, do not answer her. _

"Why wouldn't you answer me?" she asked. Castiel did not understand why she had asked this. Part of him wondered if his thoughts had been said out loud, while another piece of him knew that he could not refuse her anything. She was his master.

"I would never..." Castiel's voice faltered. He felt more of his senses freed. He could taste. He could taste sweet sanguineous iron in his mouth. It sat in there thickly. He did not like the taste.

"You would never what?" The little girl's voice asked not quite dangerously.

Feeling was next, but not control. Waves of sensation cut into his mind like knives. His leg first, it came to him as shards of pain radiated up his body, pulling the muscles wrapped around his snapped bone tightly, pulling it farther apart. Then his stomach and chest, a dull, ubiquitous ache that heightened to a sheer agony every time he moved, every time his lungs stained for a breath against its broken cage. After that he felt his wrists, the burned, skinless feeling of coarse ropes rubbing through his flesh. Finally the sensation that closest to him, his head, the pulsating thump, the patterned beat that kept him from slipping back off to the grey nothing he had been locked in, which now seemed to him to be relief, not a prison.

"I will never agree Lilith. I will never allow myself to be ruled by your depraved desires." Part of Castiel let himself feel affirmed by his words. The other larger part of himself felt fear. The emptiness that held most of his will knew what she might do in response.

"Won't you? I know you want to, silly." At the end of her words, the innocent voice seemed to relent, and he could see.

Blonde curls bobbed around the porcelain-faced girl. She smiled warmly at him. "Now I will let you see. It is much nicer to talk to you this way. I like your pretty eyes. Too bad they have to go dark." The little girl's hands brushed at the flowing dress and straightened the ribbon around her waist.

"You may kill me Lilith." Talking now was becoming hard. Effort to push the words past his lips was quickly turning into effort he did not have. Lilith suddenly became very excited. She straightened up on her toes to look levelly, eye to eye with him. "But I will not ask to die. I will not shatter the Seal." Castiel's breath hitched. He looked over faintly at the door of the warehouse. He did not why. No one was coming for him. The angels did not know what was going on. And as far as Castiel could remember, the attempts to circumvent Lilith's control of his mind and power, to reach Dean Winchester, had been a far cry from successful. The incoherent pieces he remembered of his messages would have meant nothing to the other man, if Dean even could recall it.

And the last attempt, he did not remember much of it at all. Castiel remembered seeing Dean's back, and then everything faded out slowly. What was left of his Grace was nearly gone. Castiel knew that to make another journey like that would leave him entirely open to Lilith's control. What had happened this time was bad enough, but he could only guess as the memory was a pain-filled blur. Lilith found him stretched out to Dean, and though she could not know what he was doing, saw the moment of weakness, and ripped through his mental blocks against his pain. Everything he felt, everything he had he had carefully packaged away had sprouted up, distorting what he was trying to tell the older Winchester. His pain took over his dream, it permeated then suffocated Castiel's attempt to communicate. But strangely, his memory for the very end of the dream, just before he was forced out of Dean's head, was as clear as if he had really been sitting in the room. Dean's own strength must have taken up control of it, when his own waxed and waned. And that thought gave Castiel comfort. Dean had the potential.

"But you did the rest of it without me even asking you too!" The small girl's voice shouted.

Castiel felt a new feeling overtake him: guilt. He had warned the persistent psychic, but he did not have the ability to shield her from his true form. Now, Castiel knew that Dean would respond to Castiel like he was a threat, seek to identify him so that the hunter in Dean could destroy Castiel. But back then, the angel did not understand why the boy had run from him and could not hear him speak.

Castiel had unwittingly preformed the first part of the ritual, then automatically became the object of the second. The one who blinded the seer must submit and ask to be killed by a great power in sterile field. Lilith, a great power of evil, had walked for days through nothing to find the energy lines in the earth where the power was the weakest, the clean untainted area that they now stood at. She was about to order a demon to collect her a psychic when Balthazar, a loyal follower, had told her something very interesting.

Then, all at once, she felt the angel following her, she could see the stain of the breaking Seal on his soul. He had come to her.

She had told Castiel all of this. Lilith wanted him to know how unique he was. He was second angel that would damn the earth. The first betrayer was Lucifer, and now the just Castiel. There was something else the two had in common, Castiel knew. But he did not dwell on it. The more he thought of the collar on the neck, the more he felt his Grace being covered by it. And he had precious little Grace left to sustain him, to keep his will from bending to Lilith. The shield that kept him from Lilith was all but gone. It was a mesh screen to hold back a flood. If he was pushed, the flood was going to be released. And Lilith's push was just a matter of time.

"I will not fail my Father." Castiel said simply, accepting the pain speaking brought him. "Not while His Grace still flows through me."

"Why do you stall, angel?" A harsh male voice spoke up from the back of the room. Castiel opened his eye to look him in the face. "You're a masochist I ever saw one. And believe me, I've seen a few."

"He still believes he can be saved." Lilith answered for Castiel. Her voice reeked with disbelief, and perhaps incredulity. "Who will come? Even your Father does not know where you are." Castiel tried to not react. He tried to remain impassive, impervious. It was hard to hold onto the facade that had been so obviously shattered so many times in the past week.

Lilith suddenly made an enlightened gesture. "Oh, I should have guessed. You think that the Winchesters will come for you. You think that if you saved Dean from hell that he will return the favour."

Castiel felt the net holding back his thoughts from the demon's fray even more. Everything was pulling it apart, and he did not have any Grace to repair it. All his pain, his fear, and his doubt only allowed Lilith to pick at the knots that held his shield up.

"Dean would not come. You are not his friend. Not his ally. Not his concern. In fact, did you not just threaten his little angel and his little brother? You are his enemy." Lilith beamed up at him. "See? You have nothing but me!"

* * *

Dean woke up. He jerked his head off of the papers strewn haphazardly across the table and stood up so quickly that the chair he was sitting on fell over. He turned around expecting to see Castiel still there. He hoped the angel would stay with him until Dean could find him. Dean knew what being tortured by demons was like – knew it intimately.

But it was not Castiel who stood by his bed waiting to speak with him.

Uriel's exceedingly haughty, yet bored expression did nothing to improve Dean's mood. "What do you want now?" Dean looked coldly at the angel. How could Uriel stand there looking like he had nowhere to be except to harass him, when Dean knew Castiel was out there somewhere, being slowly ripped apart by Lilith's horde?

Uriel humphed, a very un-angelic noise. "I do not want anything from you. I came to tell you that we have discovered what the second piece of the Seal is."

Dean squared his shoulders. "And you had to wake me up in the middle of the night to do it?"

Uriel laughed. "Why would I go all the way there when all I have to do is slip into your pathetic little mind while you rest?"

"I'm dreaming?" Dean was almost angry. He took a calming breath. And another.

"What was I interrupting? Perhaps a sinful display of lust?" The angel smirked. "So typical of lower beings." The angel took a step closer to Dean and looked him up and down. "I'm amazed the population is as low as it is, what with the self control your race seems to have."

Dean bit his lip, hard. "You gonna' get down to business, or you gonna' keep complaining 'cause you haven't been laid, ever?"

"Do not mistake me, Dean. I will not allow you to-"

"I got it, you sanctimonious prick. Just tell me what the Hell is going on, so we can all not talk to each other."

"As I said, the first part of the ritual to break the Seal has been completed by an unknown entity. The second part of the ritual involves the self sacrifice of that individual." Uriel took a deep breath.

"Wait. Do you know anything about Castiel yet?" Dean's question stopped the angel from leaving.

"No. He has completely fallen out of our senses." Uriel looked at Dean carefully. Dean sucked in a breath, feeling uncomfortable under the angel's scrutiny.

"What could do that?" Dean asked, though he felt he already knew the answers.

"Death and powerful magic." Uriel said concisely without a hint of worry in the tone of his voice.

"How about a black collar?" Dean suggested, thinking back on all of the nightmares that Castiel had sent him. But Dean knew it was Castiel's nightmare.

Uriel's reaction was not one he expected. The room darkened in a frenzied flash. The black shadows cast by wings became visible on the wall behind the angel. "How do you know of it? That is a secret kept by all the Lord's angels and known only to Lucifer himself!"

"What? Well someone let the ball drop on that one. Castiel came to me in a dream just before you did. He was wearing it. I didn't think it was a fashion item. A little too Goth for the Holy Tax accountant look he has going for him." Dean shivered, despite himself.

Uriel's eyes glowed.

"That is unfortunate. I cannot help him. No one can. Not if that is what is binding his Grace." Uriel said without remorse or pity that Dean could tell.

"Why? I thought you guys are supposed to be all Godly and powerful." Dean was truly angry now. He was shouting and he did not care. "Castiel is one of you. One of the freaking angels! And you are abandoning him? This is worse than what you did to Anna!"

"The reason I cannot aid him is what you just said. The collar was built with a failsafe. Only a trusted enemy could remove it from the wearer. It was the only way we could subdue Lucifer's power long enough to transport him to Hell."

"What? You built this? How the Hell did Lilith get it?" Dean felt like punching the man that stood before him.

"I did not build it. It was another. Though I did have opportunity to witness its work." Did appreciation colour Uriel's voice? Dean sincerely hoped not.

"Well, your buddy Lucifer is obviously not still wearing it. Who took it off him?" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, and bent over trying to control his breathing.

"I did. It was a simple matter to convince the traitor that I was on his side long enough to pull it off an throw him into his prison." Uriel said smugly. Dean looked hard at the angel.

"A trusted enemy." Dean whispered to himself. Figures that it would be Uriel. That fit nicely with what Uriel had showed them thus far.

Dean looked back up at the angel. "We might have a lead on where the Seal is, where Castiel is. Can we expect any divine backup, or we SOL again?"

Uriel glared confusedly at Dean. "Do not expect any aid from me. I have much more important matters to attend to."

A flapping of wings was heard, and the angel was gone.

Dean woke up, and stood up for the third time. Though, this time the person who stood behind him waiting was Ruby. He grinned at her. A light bulb lit in his head. "I have job for you."

* * *

"And we are sure that this is the correct place, this time?" Sam asked in a low tone. The Winchester brothers walked hunched over to the outside of the dilapidated warehouse. Ruby was hunkered over behind them, head up looking for any signs of interception. The desert wind blew sharply against the trio, kicking up grit and dust in thick clouds. Dean, in their surprisingly quick walk from the old road, had the opportunity to jump in several dust devils.

Dean lifted the khaki-coloured coat hanging on his arm. "It's where he said it would be." He didn't need to say who 'he' was. Dean wiped the sand from his face and then held up a fist signaling them to stop. "So, we know the deal. Probably four demons in there with Castiel and Lilith. Don't stop, and if Lilith is there, it's get in, then get the Hell out. Ruby you're only objective is to carry Cas out. Do not come in until we give the signal. If you get exorcised with everyone else, it could be awkward."

"Thanks for the overwhelming concern." Ruby stated, her heart not really in it. Sam shot her a look of empathy.

"So kids, no heroism, no major injuries. Just grab my angel and go." Dean nodded and he grabbed the tape recorder out his pocket.

"Your angel?" The corners of Sam's lips lifted. "Dean, I'm not sure that's, umm…. how that works."

"Oh, you know what I mean." Dean shook his head and glanced up at the hot noon sun. "Too bad demons aren't scared of the light, like vampires are. This could be a whole lot easier."

"And we could be scared of garlic, crosses, and our own reflections. But we're not. Get over it." Ruby shook her head. Then she accepted the trench coat from Dean's arms with a wary look. Dean thought she looked like she was scared it was going to bite her.

"I've seen you guys. You should be scared of your own reflection." Dean held up a finger indicating a point to himself.

"Dean, this is really not the place to start this kind of fight. We have to go rescue Godzilla from Mothra, remember?" Sam took a firm grip of his brother's sleeve and pulled him towards the warehouse.

The pair stopped on the threshold for a minute, and looked at each other. Dean smiled at Sam. "Yipee Kai Yeah, Motherfucker!" And they kicked the door in.

Dean immediately slipped his right hand into his pocket and hit the play button. Even if the Latin exorcism did not work on everything in here, it was a suitable distraction for the lower level scum. His left hand was slinging a bucket of holy water out at the nearest demon. The element of surprise was certainly working for them as the demon let out an undignified squeak and fell off the crate he was perched on. The steam rose as the blessed water hit him.

Sam worked in tandem; one hand held Ruby's knife, the other sloshed water out of a large jug. Dean pulled his large Bowie knife from its sheathe, waiting for the response to their entrance. Two black eyed demons stumbled towards them from behind high stacks of crates. They were shaking, twitching, in the too-fast-for-Dean's-eye-to-see way. But they were pissed.

One of them stumbled over to Sam, and got in a good punch before Sam stabbed him in the arm with the knife. Sam staggered back, holding his chin. The tall man shook his head to clear it. Dean frowned in worry. If Sam was already hurt, this mission was screwed.

"Okay Sammy?" Dean asked quickly over his shoulder. He still had enough holy water left to slow down the two demons coming at him. The first one they had run into, and the other from the pair.

"Perfect Dean!" Came Sam's somewhat muffled reply.

Then Dean ran out of holy water.

Both demons jumped at him at the same time. Dean turned, and sidestepped the first, and had to let the second hit him. Now that demon number two was close enough, Dean punched it in the jaw, knocking him backwards long enough for Dean to kick the first across the ribs. The first went rolling away towards Sam. "Incoming!" Dean shouted as he ducked under and performed a two-handed push.

Sam nodded in response and as he pulled the knife from his quarry's throat. The red lightning cackled, and stopped as the body hit the ground. Dean backed up, hoping to run up the time, so that the Latin exorcism would do its job. But a sudden blow to his hip took his breath away.

Dean staggered sideways, falling. Unbalanced. A swear word left his lips. The fourth demon had smashed the tape player, and Dean's right hip, with a crowbar. Dean fought the urge to curl around the injury and cry. It was a shocking pain; the leg did not want to work. He couldn't catch his breath. The demon powered-swing probably did not break the bone, but Holy Hell, was Dean seeing stars.

Dean stumbled around drunkenly. All of a sudden, someone gripped his left arm. He brought his right arm, still holding the Bowie up. "Just me Dean. It's okay, catch your breath." Sam's gentle voice instructed. Dean tucked his head down. Let the blood flow back to it. His vision darkened to the normal color scheme.

Sam was standing in the corner, in front of Dean, with two annoyed black-eyed demons staring back at him. One still held the crowbar. Sam smiled at them and raised his palm. One of the demons eyes widened, and immediately left the body it was riding. The one with crowbar advanced, muttering about cowards. Dean could feel his leg, knew there was going to be a black and blue bruise in a couple of days, but he also heard a little girl laughing from far across the room.

The last black-eyed demon swung down at Sam. Sam stepped quickly away from it, and passed Ruby's knife to Dean. Then Sam grabbed the bar and held on with all of his strength. The demon pushed Sam away from Dean, weaving him across the floor. The demon spun quickly, using the bar as leverage, and knocked Sam into a pile of crates. Some broke as Sam fell through them.

But that was the opportunity Dean was waiting for. The demon stood over top of the younger Winchester, leering, leaving his back open, unprotected. Dean limped over behind the demon and sank the blade deep between his shoulder blades.

Sam pushed the falling body off of him. "That's all the black eyes. Where are Castiel and Lilith?" Dean would have offered his brother and arm up, but given that putting weight on his leg right brought decidedly un-masculine tears to his eyes, Dean just got out of Sam's way.

"In the center of the room. Cas is probably tied up there." Dean said in a low voice. The fact that Lilith was not appearing to kill them was a tad bit suspicious. "Where do you think the super bitch is?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe she's not here?" They circled around the middle of the room, trying to get a look at what was going on.

"And maybe rainbows will fly out of my well-shaped ass." Then Dean and Sam stopped.

Castiel's back came into view. Or at least they assumed it was him. They could not see his head; it leaned forward, probably resting on the angel's chest. He was hanging by his wrists that were tied to thin yellow rope, looped through the rafters, and tied off to a stake in the ground. The rope was loose, though. The angel's feet rested on the floor in front of him, his right leg straight. His left leg, from here Dean could see the odd bend just under the angel's knee. The angel's back was not all that telling. It was shaking with quick panting breaths. The shirt, as Dean remembered, hung off the angel in tatters, revealing some bruising, and lacerations. The angel was low enough that Lilith could look right into his face.

The brothers walked up to the little girl, Dean threw himself forward with the knife as Sam brought up his hand, this time not a fake-out. Dean had the presence of mind to yell out his signal for Ruby to come in. "Ruby!" Well admittedly it was not a very original signal, though it did have it straight forward value to it.

Lilith backed away from the angel. Then she stomped her foot. "Why are you interrupting me again?" Ruby came at the girl from behind, pinning the girls arms to her sides. Sam began to exorcise her, his face straining. Blood began almost immediately to roll down his chin. Dean passed the knife to his brother, as he quickly drew a devil's trap on the cleared away floor, just big enough for the two demons.

It did not matter though.

Lilith just rolled her eyes and left.

The little girl choked up the demon smoke and fell to the floor. Ruby had dropped her in shock.

Dean immediately whirled around.

Castiel's face was tight, clenched in agony. The angel trembled visibly. Blood coated half of his face from a cut just under his hair line. One eye was swollen shut, and had an ugly puffy look. Below that eye was purple bruise, still red in the middle, along the angel's cheek bone. Dried blood had obviously been trickling from his mouth at some point. His breath made a high pitched wheezing sound. A large gash across the angel's breast bone was deep enough that Dean thought he could faintly see the white of bone. And the blood had turned a white silk shirt red and dried black. The bruising was worse, and darker, on Castiel crunched up stomach than it was on his back.

But Dean's evaluation took less than a second before he wrapped his arms around the angel's middle so that Castiel would not fall when Sam cut the ropes from the angel's raw wrists. Dean caught him, and Castiel's arms fell right into Dean's head. Dean swore at the sudden increase in weight, and almost flopped over onto the angel. He set Castiel down as Sam came up behind to support the angel.

Dean rolled away holding his hip. The pain was brief, but intense. Dean looked up and saw Ruby was still standing there, in front of Castiel, but fearful wonderment was on her face. "This is so strange." She shook herself. "I can feel Castiel's power, locked away. I can feel him." She leaned forward. Castiel suddenly screamed. His voice was hoarse and rough.

"Whatever you are doing, stop it!" Dean pushed at her. He went over, and half kneeled at the angel's side. He cupped the angel's chin in his hands and brought up the angel's face to look at him. "Cas, it's okay – we've got you. You're okay." Dean kept muttering low, reassuring noises as he slipped in behind the angel, taking Sam's place. The angel's head fell back on his shoulder. But one blue eye opened, unseeing.

"Dean, he's really bad. I know you said he was beat up, but –" Sam stopped. They all knew what he was going to say. Sam looked down at the angel's leg. "We shouldn't leave it like that."

Dean looked up at his brother sharply. "I know." He said, still in the same low soothing tone. It reminded him of how he used to talk to Sammy sometimes when they were little, when Sammy would skin his knee. "Go bring the car closer. Don't forget the first aid kit." Sam fished the keys from Dean's pocket. Sam nodded, a strange expression on his face.

"Angel's aren't supposed to..." Sam's voice faded. Then he left at a dead run.

"Hell-bitch, if you wouldn't mind being useful..." Dean started. But quickly quit, when through Castiel's wheezing breaths, the angel managed to whisper something.

"No. Demons can't touch me. Please."

Dean closed his eyes. It was the first time he had heard Castiel beg for anything.

"Okay. This will hurt like a bitch though." Dean reached around the angel's chest and tried to close the gaping wound on the Castiel's sternum with his hand. The angel barely flinched.

Dean looked up at the demon who stood there eyes wide and fearful. But she did not look threatened. Dean wondered about that for a brief instant, then cursed in remembrance. "Do you have his coat here?" Ruby darted back out of sight in response, then came back bearing the tan trench coat. She gave it to Dean.

Dean reverently placed it on top of the angel, tucking it around him. "Help treat for shock." Dean mumbled, remembering the first aid lessons. Dean smiled, the angel had his Holy Tax account suit back.

A soft sound made everybody in the room look towards the little girl in the white princess dress. She sat on the floor rocking back and forth. "Please, didn't mean to. Sorry. Sorry. Please don't be mad. Didn't mean to… sorry..." She was crying silently. Ruby looked down at the child and tried to pick her up. The girl screamed and dove at Dean and Castiel.

To Dean's surprise, Castiel lifted an arm, and the little girl tucked herself under it, trembling. Dean felt every muscle in Castiel's back spasm at the movement, and the angel's breath hitched. "My child... Do not be afraid. God loves... you." The voice was surprisingly strong and peaceful. The seven year old gripped his shirt, wailing and crying in fear and guilt. Castiel still had his arm up, and brought it around to the little girl's forehead. Two fingers touched her between the eyes, and for a second, the little brown eye went blank. The little girl shook her head and glanced up at Dean in confusion.

"What am I doing here? Where's Daddy?" But she still burrowed deep in to the angel's side, half underneath the jacket.

Dean noticed a faint smile on the angel's lips. It said a thousand words: "you're welcome" to the girl, "good bye" to Dean, "I'm done now" to himself. The angel slumped, unconscious.

Dean scrunched up his face in fear, but he still felt the angel's fast, hot breath on his cheek. "Ruby, get over here at and take off this goddam collar."

Ruby hurried over, and knelt in front of the trio. The little girl shrank behind the unconscious angel and Dean, cowering. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Ruby mumbled absently. Her eyes flicked black, though, when her finger's touched the black metal. Castiel's body started convulsing weakly. She pulled at it. Nothing happened.

"Take it off already!" Dean shouted, concern getting the better of his already frayed temper. Castiel's broken leg was dancing around on the floor. One of his arms came up and smacked Dean in the face. The little girl clung tightly to the other one, unsure of what was happening. But Dean knew that she sensed that Castiel was good and safe. For some reason, the young always had a better perception of reality than most.

"I'm trying, it won't come!" Ruby responded, then let go quickly. And Castiel stopped thrashing around in Dean's arms.

The angel lay there, deathly still.

* * *

_Not bad huh! So remember reviews feed the muse, and my ego! SO PLEASE CLICK THE GREEN LITTLE LINK JUST BELOW THIS MESSAGE! And did a couple of you notice that I answered some of your requests? SO, reviewing does get you somewhere!!!_

_Therefore, review, pay compliments, and constructive criticisms, but remember Santa's watching you so if you flame you will get coal in your stocking, or sacrificed to the evil gods off of A Very Supernatural Christmas lol, which they are airing on the 25__th__ regular time, cool hey! I know what I'm going to be doing at 8:00 my time… _

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	6. The scent of trust

_Twenty-Two Reviews for Chapter Five!_

Wow, thanks for all your support!

Onto Six!

* * *

**Chapter Six: The smell of trust**

* * *

Dean sat on the ground, legs splayed out to either side. Burning pain bored into his right hip, but he ignored it. His back muscles were clenched and cramped due to the uncomfortable position that he was seated in, but he forced it out of his mind. His head pounded as he came down from the adrenaline rush that accompanied the fighting. The weight of the angel's completely limp body was almost enough to unsteady Dean's grip, but he held determined not to let the angel fall.

A soft sound from his left drew his attention. The little girl raised her face to look at him, blonde curls falling out of the way of her small pixie face. "Umm… My daddy's looking for me. And I think he needs to go see Mr. Whitman. Even if he doesn't want to." Her small high-pitched voice was calm, a bold contrast that took the meaning out of the words she spoke. Dean could only gawk at her incredulously. "Daddy says not to listen to rumours at school. Doctors are really nice, and can help you if you feel sick. I think he's very sick. Almost like my mommy." The little girl looked down suddenly and buried her face into the angel's arm again.

Dean swallowed and looked up at Ruby was anxiously pacing. "Well, why didn't it work?" Dean asked, his voice muffled by his thickening lip. Dean could still feel quick pants of hot breath on his cheek coming from Castiel's vessel. The angel was still alive, though not alright. Dean was clueless to what had happened. Ruby was on their side. She should have been able to take the collar off.

Ruby looked up to Dean, fear blanketing her expression. "I touched and tried to take it off. But I couldn't feel anything, no magical clasp. But I could feel him." She trailed off to look at the bloodied angel in Dean's arms. She shivered. "He's in his own hell Dean. He might as well be Downstairs. This collar thing cut him off from the main body of his power. He would have only had a little left. He probably spent most of it trying to keep Lilith from tearing him to pieces mentally and getting your attention. Then when he whammied the kid... there's almost nothing left. I touched him, and he withdrew into his own mind. He fell apart..." She stopped breaking eye contact with the elder Winchester's intense green gaze. "I don't know if he's still even left in there."

"Damn it. Can't you try again? Try harder." Dean snapped back in tense frustration.

"It's not like I'm jumping up and trying to grab a cookie from the top shelf of the cupboard. Dean, I don't think the problem was on my end. Maybe Sam could try-"

"Sam's not his enemy." Dean retorted maybe too quickly.

Dean leaned back and tried to rest against a crate. Castiel slumped with him, bouncing around limply – a marionette with its strings cut. "Where's Sam?" Dean knew the car was two miles away. Even the long-legged Sam could not run that fast.

"Castiel?" A voice called out from behind her. Uriel stepped out of the shadows. He was as ragged as Dean had ever seen the angel. The cleanly pressed look was gone, and the shirt might have been dirty. The angel walked past the crates and pushed Ruby out of the way. The demon stumbled, but caught herself on one of the abundant crates around the room.

"What the hell happened to you?" Dean double-entendre meaning the angel's not perfect appearance, and the notable lack of assistance when Dean called for him after Castiel stopped seizuring fifteen minutes prior.

"Hell." The angel said in reply.

The angel stopped in front of Dean and laid a hand on Castiel's forehead. "Castiel?" There was a faint probing light that passed between the two angels.

And Uriel ripped back his hand his a pained grunt. "I can do nothing for him. As long as that collar still remains on him... Lucifer was to receive no aid by his minions when we locked him away. Castiel cannot receive our Father's blessing either." The angel sniffed, the only reaction that angel gave that seemed remotely empathetic.

"You can't even heal his vessel? I mean you guys fixed my shredded, rotted corpse and you can't even put Humpty back together again?" Dean looked up at the dark angel furiously.

"If Lucifer had been allowed to be helped –" Uriel began somewhat pompously like he was explaining something to a small child, not his God-chosen ally.

"Castiel's not Lucifer. And I'm not sure that he's going to be able to help himself." Dean implored the angel, but he knew without even having to ask what the other angel's response would be.

"Then show me that having you alive is worth anyone's time and remove the collar. Why you haven't gotten your pet demon to do it yet... No, that wouldn't work." Uriel stopped. "Not even Castiel, whose fondness for you lowlifes goes nearly unparallel, would not consent and trust an abomination like her."

"Then how are we supposed to help him?" Sam asked as he jogged into the room, his face red and sweaty, holding the Impala keys tightly in his fist like the Holy Grail. He skidded along the ground and dropped to his knees in front of his brother. Sam put down the large plastic tool chest that housed their medical supplies.

"You will figure it out." Then Uriel left, and Dean could not figure out if what the angel had said was a threat, a prediction, or a way of ignoring the situation. Dean questioned the relationship that existed between the two angels. Castiel was usually calm. Uriel was usually a mix of arrogant and angry. They never expressed any sort of friendship or camaraderie with each other, and often Castiel was pulling Uriel back away from Dean himself. They had no loyalty to each other, only feeling the pull of their duty. Dean half wondered if the only reason Castiel would hold Uriel back from smiting Dean, was that Castiel had a duty to protect him.

"Guys, we need to get out of here before Lilith finds some backup and returns here. I mean, it can still go down tonight. There are a couple of hours of daylight left. She's not going to waste them." Sam spoke softly and opened the medical kit. He pulled out a pair of scissors that Dean could cut through pennies with. He started in on Castiel's pant leg.

The material was stiff, but Sam cut through it up past the angel's knee. The leg was slowly exposed revealing bruising that reflected what they could already see on the angel's back and chest. The angel's leg was clearly broken. It looked sickening, laying at an off angle just below the angel's knee. Sam's long fingers felt around the break gently. At least the bone had not torn through the skin. "It feels like a clean break." Sam said, but Dean inferred from his tone that it was a guess.

"Too bad demon blood didn't give you x-ray vision." Dean tightened his hold on the angel. "Do you need help to set it?"

"Yeah, just Ruby. Go grab two SAM splints out of the bottom the kit. Mold them to the shape of the good leg. Okay, be ready to put them on." Sam gripped Castiel's knee and upper leg with one hand, and with the other his lower leg five inches below the break. "Ruby, the second the bone fits back into place..." Sam paused, for the first time noticing the little girl clinging to Castiel's arm. "Huh?"

"It's long story. Castiel mind wiped her. Kinda like those flashy things off Men In Black, actually. You gonna' do this, or are you going keep boning around?"

"Yeah, but if he starts thrashing around..." Sam started and then noticed Dean's solemn facial expression. "Or not. Three, two, one." A loud snicker snap filled the air, punctuated by a sharp cry from the small girl's lips. Ruby rushed in with the splints, and Sam tied them on efficiently. He probed the break again, nodding. "Seems alright. We just need to be careful transporting him."

"Gee, you think?"

Sam assisted by his not so lovely nurse Ruby, made short work of the rest of the injuries. Mostly it was bruising, serious or not, there was not a hell of a lot they could about it, expect ice it back at the hotel. There were scrapes and cuts. Those were wiped off with saline and bandaged with gauze and tape. The cut on the angel's forehead was ragged, but Dean figured that if the angel survived, it would either get healed, or form into a wicked scar. The gapping slash on the angel's sternum was rinsed thoroughly and pulled together with butterfly bandages until they could get somewhere a little more sterile.

Sam ran outside again, opening all the doors to the Impala in preparation for the move. The little girl moved away as the younger Winchester came back around to Castiel's upper body, and crossed the angel's arms in front of him. Reaching underneath his armpits, Sam hugged the angel's lax body close with his long arms, and grasped the angel's doctored wrists tightly. Demon strength enhanced Ruby was in position to support the angel's legs, keeping the broken one from anymore stress than absolutely necessary. And Dean was… well, he was trying to get his courage to stand up. His own hip was a myriad of sharp agony. The little girl waited beside him as Sam and Ruby carried Castiel out to the car.

"Am I going home now? Are you going home now?" The girl asked, and held out a hand to help Dean up.

* * *

The little girl got dropped off a block from her house with instructions to not remember what had happened to her, and go to her dad as soon as possible. Her eyes turned foggy for a moment, then without a word, she skipped down the street to her home. Dean nodded in appreciation. That was some good angel mojo Castiel had worked. Dean only hoped that it hadn't cost the angel his life.

Dean now sat on the edge of the bed where Castiel lay, covered by quilts. All the bedding had been stripped from both the rooms to warm the angel, keep him from going deeper into shock. A lump in the bed off center indicated the pillows that had been piled to elevate the broken leg. The blankets were drawn up to the man's sharp angled chin. The bright orange felt contrasted with the pale white skin and the dark scruff that always covered the angel's face. Castiel was supported from the torso up by mountains of pillows and a rolled blanket. Sam thought it would be easier on the angel's breathing, and the semi sitting position was more comfortable for stomach pain. No one said that comfort should have been an afterthought as it wouldn't matter because the angel was unconscious, and if one believed Ruby, nearly dead.

So Dean kept on with his bedside vigil, leaning up against the pillows himself, right leg up on the bed to ease the burning pain not nearly countered by the Codeine he had swallowed to appease Sam. The drug was making him tired and dizzy, but he shook it off to keep watching Castiel. He kept listening for the faint puff as the angel's host exhaled a breath, listening for the faint rasping inhale that told Dean it was not the angel's last breath. So he waited for Sam and Ruby to find a way to remove the collar hidden by the cheery quilts.

Dean felt his eyes slip closed.

Then he heard a women speak to him. "Dean, isn't your bed time?"

He opened his eyes, and looked up at his mother. He was sitting on the ground playing with his fire truck in his Muppets pajamas rescuing the Lego men from their Lego house. The beige carpet made the fire truck go slower, so he hoped that he could still get there in time.

"Mommy, not bedtime yet!" He retorted indignantly. Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest and stayed on the floor by his bed.

"Dean," his mother's voice warned softly. She bent over slowly; her tummy was getting very round. Daddy called her a pear when he thought she was not listening. But Daddy was kidding because he laughed after he said it. "It's bedtime. Do you want a story?"

"No mommy. Can I play for a few minutes instead?" Dean asked in compromise. Mommy's stories were nice. She read them out of the books he got for Christmas. Daddy's stories were better. They always had loud noises and made Dean giggle.

"Dean. Please?" Mary asked again and reached for her son. Dean reached back and let his mother lift him from the carpet. He breathed in and smelled his mother. She smelled like pretty shampoo and the flowers Daddy got her all the time. Dean did not want to make mommy cry. Sometimes she did that lately. Daddy always hugged her and told Dean later that mommy was not actually mad at him. She was just tired from holding up his baby brother or sister.

So Dean let her pick him up and tuck him into bed with a kiss. She tucked the blankets around him, and turned off his lamp. "Don't worry baby, just go to sleep. Angel's are watching over you." Mary soothed and brushed her hand over Dean's head.

Dean looked over to the man standing in the corner of the room, leaning against Dean's dresser. "I know mommy." Then Mary left, but Dean continued to watch his angel. "Shouldn't you be up in heaven?" Dean asked suspiciously.

The corner of the angel's mouth quirked. "No, I've come to watch over you. One last time." The angel stood up straighter and walked into the middle of the room, barely missing Dean's Lego house or the Lego man that lay around it. "To pray for your strength and courage, and your compassion and faith." The angel made the sign of the cross over his chest. "Even if you don't think you deserve it Dean. You should trust in yourself more. Trust in His plan."

The angel stopped and watched Dean lying in bed wrapped in the blankets with his head cocked. No bruises marred his face. No cuts spilled blood across his features. His clothes were clean. He looked every bit like he had when he spoke to Dean in the shed with Bobby. He was quiet and simply watched Dean in bed, lightly returning his angel's stare. They stayed that way for a long time.

The dulcet tones of the angel's voice broke the silence after a time. "I pray that you will find luck in your later missions with the seals. And thank you." The angel's voice broke at the end snapping Dean out of the trance, and Castiel took a step back, the beige trench coat swirled around his legs.

Dean stood up to his full height, no longer a three year old. "Why are you thanking me?" Castiel did not respond, he just took another step back, though it looked more to Dean like his knees were giving way, and he was staggering. He grabbed the black collar around his neck tightly, and all Dean's sense disappeared slowly. The only thing left was he could smell is mother's ghostly perfume drifting through the air, Castiel's life's blood hanging in the air, Lucifer's damning hellfire burning brighter, consuming the air. It was the smell of Death.

"Castiel!" He yelled leaping forward and grabbed his shoulder hard. "You can't do this!" He yelled and pulled Castiel back up to his feet. Castiel's eyes opened to look at Dean in sheer confusion. _Why not?_ They said to Dean where the voice of the angel said naught. "You can't do this. We'll get the collar off. We just don't know how right now."

"A trusted enemy." Castiel spoke. He lifted his hand to touch the hand print shaped scar that was the only mark left on Dean from Hell.

"I know. We tried Cas. Ruby couldn't get it off of you. We tried." Dean's voice was almost begging. Castiel sagged in Dean's grip.

But he looked up into Dean's eyes with blatant inquiry. "Ruby? The demon Sam consorts with?" Castiel looked truly lost. "Trust, Dean. I have no trust of her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Can't you pretend? You're running out of options here. You don't have to hold hands at recess. And I won't tell your boss."

"How can I trust her? She is a demon. She made a deal and sold her soul. Her soul was her gift from my Father and she squandered it." Castiel replied.

Dean could only roll his eyes at the irony of it all. "What do you think I did?"

Castiel did not reply. He was sagging even more. Dean had to let them both drop to his knees. "Ruby says you are out of angel juice. How are you even doing this?"

"I'm not." Was the simple answer. The angel's head was lolling on his shoulders. "It was your faith that led you to me. But Dean Winchester, I'm sorry. I cannot go on." Dean looked around. They were in a dark room, with a large, deep cracks running through the floor. Dean was on side of the rift, and he leaned over to hold Castiel up on the other. The crack extended, wider, deeper into the floor.

"Castiel, you've got to work with me here. I think the Seal is almost broken. Does that appeal to your sense of duty, even if your life doesn't?" Dean broke in desperately. The symbolism of the dream did not escape him. Castiel looked up at him, and the angel's grip tightened on Dean's scar. "Come on Cas! You are seriously going to leave me all alone with Uriel? Either he's going to kill me, or I'm going throw myself back into the Pit to escape his ranting." Dean tried to force a grin onto his face but it was hard. Castiel closed his eyes, and nearly went limp. But the crack stopped moving as well.

"What are your orders?" Castiel asked, his gravelly voice faint.

"Could you crack a deal with Ruby?" Dean suddenly asked, and idea blooming in his head. "Some sort of 'I won't smite you for a month if you promise to take the collar off' thing." Dean looked at the angel. "Or is that like completely sacrilegious?"

"She would agree?" The angel asked, hope beginning to colour his voice.

"If you can't trust her you'll die." Dean said as straightforward as he could make it.

"Lilith asked me to trust her. That Trust is the colour of Death." The angel said softly, his voice was empty and fearful. "But Trust is the colour Hope. I must not fail my Duty."

He locked eyes with Dean. Castiel's electric, bright blue orbs bored into Dean's soul. Dean wanted to shirk back and away. But he could not. It was Dean's strength that would carry them away from Hell.

"Okay, we can do this. Then you can get some rest." Dean said, and winced. _Why would I say that?_

* * *

Dean woke up with a jolt and turned to see Castiel's good eye looking at him. The eye batted open and closed quickly. The other twitched almost unnoticeably under the dark bruising and swelling that covered that side of his face. With all the blood washed off, Castiel's unblemished skin looked to be the color of the gauze taped to his face. The dull eye kept opening and closing lazily. The angel was having a hard time staying conscious. He was drifting back away from Dean. And he was rapidly tiring, quickly fading. The angel would not last long.

"Ruby! Get over_ here and m_ake a deal with him!" Dean snapped and rolled off the bed and limped over to the other side where Ruby was now standing. The sharp pain from his hip ripped through his leg and up through his chest, but Dean vanquished it, and grabbed Castiel's hand out from under the blankets. He squeezed it hard. Castiel's hand bent, not quite squeezing back. But Dean knew it meant that Castiel was aware enough, that the angel was conscious of his surroundings.

"What the Hell are you taking about Dean? Make a Dean with an angel? Have you lost your mind?" She shouted right back, and flung her hands up. Dean saw fear in her eyes. Sam stood up from the table behind her, a thoughtful expression on his face. He smiled suddenly, understanding his brother's plan.

The person in the next room knocked on the wall vigorously. Dean kicked it in response. His injured leg really hurt. "I talked to him. He said that he won't smite you for a month if you take that collar off."

Ruby frowned. "Why would that help?" She was the only one in the room that did not understand what was going on. Dean thought she probably did not want to. She was scared shitless of angels. Even the broken one bleeding out on the sheets in front of her. Dean had to wonder how far her loyalties to Sam would extend. Dean knew he could just always threaten to exorcise her if she would not cooperate.

"You are not a trusted enemy, or whatever. You are just his enemy. You need to establish some trust." Sam came up and gripped Ruby's shoulder. "Just say yes." Dean knew that Sam saw his own desperation. And Sam probably knew better that Dean how to convince the demon of the plan. "Ruby. Please."

Ruby's eyes went black and she looked at the angel. "Do you agree to this deal?" She leaned in close to the angel's face. She had to, to hear the angel's response.

"Yes. I will let you in. Trust you." It was a pitiful small voice. It had more rust and rumble, than actual words. Dean picked up a water bottle, in case the angel wanted a drink.

"Thus the deal is struck. Thus the agreement is made. I'm going to Hell." She mumbled, then looked horrified and possibly nauseous. She swore a word Dean hadn't heard since he was in Hell, and bent closer to the angel. And kissed him. It happened so quickly that Dean blinked an almost missed it. Ruby was wiping her mouth, cringing. "Why is that necessary?" She said mostly to herself. "Demon's are just cruel."

Dean shuddered. "I got to agree – eww!" He gripped Castiel's hand tighter. "You okay in there buddy?" The fingers twitched in response. Dean was not quite sure that the angel had even felt the kiss. For Castiel's sake, Dean hoped he would not. The angel was bound to be traumatized enough.

Castiel was still blinking slowly. He exhaled loudly, and sucked in panting breaths. The angel's body tensed up. And went limp.

Castiel drove his head back in the pillow and arched his back, emitting a pain filled scream.

Ruby suddenly jerked up. "Wow. I have all of this power. This is amazing..." She listed on her feet. Sam steadied her warily. Castiel went quiet, completely still. Not even the sounds of his breathing could be heard.

"Ruby, take the collar off now!" Sam pushed her forward. She grabbed to the cool metal around the angel's neck. He lay there, still, not thrashing as he had before. She ran her fingers along it slowly. She pinched one spot between her fingers and twisted delicately. A metal sounding spring engaged, and the collar disappeared.

"Poof!" Dean muttered and leaned over to look at the angel. "Well that was anticlimactic. I expected it to burst into flames." Dean frowned when the angel did not respond. He dropped the angel's hand. It fell limply back to the bed, and bounced off the mattresses. "Cas, you in there?"

Dean felt a shiver go down his spine. He looked first to Sam who striding closer to stand at the angel's bedside. "Dean, is he breathing?"

Ruby backed away. Dean hobbled a quick step to stand by the angel's head. He bent over and placed his ear by Castiel's mouth. Dean could not hear anything, he could not feel anything, and the sheets above the angel's chest were not moving. Dean waited there for ten seconds before he looked up into his brother's eyes fearfully.

"Castiel!"

* * *

_First off, everyone HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!_

As you all feel the giving, generous, holiday spirit, please take a few minutes and leave review. There like super awesome presents. Thanks to all you have been reviewing and especially those that take the time to think of someing critical, inquisitive, or even funny to say. I appreciate every single one of you! This story recently got three thousand hits which I think is amazing for only being posted for a month.

So, thank you for all your support. Last chapter will be up as soon as I finish it, and my lovely beta looks it over.

HAVE A VERY SUPERNATURAL CHRISTMAS!!!

(will anyone read it if I post during the holidays?)


	7. The colour of trust is death

_Sooo....._

I'll will straight up apologize for the wait. I know my self how much it sucks [to wait].... but I did finish.

I had it written by the end of Dec, but my computer ate it. I had to start over, which was difficult. And from then on, it was one distraction [important life thing] after another.

Everybody give a big hand to OTS for getting beta'ed copy chapter back to me! All remaining mistakes are the product of my idiocy...

Here it is, the grande finale, remember to leave a review. It feeds the muse.... and ego.......

* * *

Chapter the Last: The Colour of Trust is Death

* * *

Oblivion overwhelmed him, but he was free.

He lay on the edge of the deep black abyss. The dark swirling shadows wrapped around his core were loosening, relaxing, fading... away into nothing. Each chain that faded from space around him took a piece of his soul, damaged and torn. The diseased pieces of him washed away all of the negative and wholly evil taints that he could feel within himself. The faint wisps of damned power floated lazily around him, until they dissolved, stirred away by his own glory, now hovering above him.

The orb moved slowly, stretching out into his center, invading him. But then the power hit him.

His senses were unbounded: the bright ever-present light, soothing resonance, ambrosia sweetness, unparalleled ecstasy, ubiquitous heavenly scent encompassed his being. He was whole.

His Grace thrummed deeply in his soul. It's presence that wrapped his mind in the divine pleasure robbed him of his rationale. It felt new, vibrant and young. Untried, untested, untrained. His thoughts felt strange. The rapture that held him now... should not be so enticing.

He tried to follow through with his thoughts, but couldn't. He simply lay there on the high ledge, now hanging half off it. He felt part of him swing in the empty air, and was not afraid. The absence of sensation felt soothing. He contemplated jumping off, but waited.

Curious, confused.

What was the nature of that edge?

His mind and thoughts were entirely blank. He reached into himself, into his Grace, to pull out the strength he should have had. His foray came up with only a small piece of what he had intended, but it was enough to consider the conundrum before him.

He knew know his own nature. What it meant. Though he felt strangely distanced from everything. It felt as though he had the titles of every chapter of his being but no content, or context, to put himself in. The bottomless chasm felt vacant, and as he stared down into it, a new sensation began to race across his nerves.

His mind felt as if it was being drained away, every unit of time that he continued here stole more of his... he felt his Grace throbbing, pulsing rhythmically deep inside of him. Then it stopped.

He felt something flow through him, then that stopped and his Grace started to thrum again with life.

He felt that something bring clarity to him as he started to fade away again. And with that clarity came panic, urgency. Something was wrong. He should not be here. His mind was fading again, fast. He looked down with at the space below and wondered if he should go and fall.

The pulse stopped again.

Consciousness washed threw him. The stillness in his soul made him clench up in a new sensation – agony.

He could hear now too. But even as this new sound echoed around him it was already becoming faint. He had trouble putting names to them, the fading noises. A moan... the sound of air harshly being expelled from... and a word – short, desperate, and uncouth.

He faintly tuned in, trying to comprehend the noises that seemed so out of place from his perch on the end of oblivion. The jubilation and energy he felt in the instant he woke up here were gone, flashing with his Grace. But he could not discover why. There, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone, there, and gone...

But as time stretched, everything faded away again.

He could almost rhythmically predict it now. Stop. The twisting, confused, clenching, erratic feeling inside. The wave of clarity for that one terrifying instant where he could think but he was paralyzed with his Grace still inside him.

"Castiel!" Then his grace started winking in and out, and in and out...

Castiel... The word seemed to fit in him. The title of his book of memories. That was it. He was Castiel.

But the voice, that had not come from within his solitary ward. Had it come from the pit?

A faint noise drew his attention again, the last thing he heard before the Stop. "Come back to us..."

It was so quiet and empathic...

The next thing to invade him was taste. It seemed out of place. But the unsavoury taste in his mouth was unnatural. Why would he taste. One such as he could not taste anything. Two words came to his mind that fit the descriptions he conjured. The sweet, metallic flavour was blood. And the unappealing, almost flavourless tang was plastic.

It sharply bit him.

Why?

But he faded away again when it all stopped.

He hung in limbo for a moment or two too long. He felt almost as insubstantial as the chains that broke off of him.

But the breath, the feeling of air flowed through him. And with it came a myriad of new feeling. More than what he thought the sense of touch was. Compared to what he now felt, everything before this was a baseless shadow of reality.

Crippling, cracking pain shot Castiel's chest in time with the beat of Grace. The pain sharpened his mind. Everything else came in clearer. "Four, and Ten, and One, and Two, and Three, and Four, and Fifteen." Then the pain receded, but he felt now his Grace and his Heart clench together.

Some was forced down on his face tightly. Pain flickered through half of his face. It was duller than the feeling in his chest. More manageable. A breeze brushed into his face, and he felt his chest rise, broken ribs shifted in while the rest of his chest inflated.

He opened his eyes and tried to look around all that was left. He was still lying on the edge.

"Can we even call 911? I don't think angel's have health insurance, do they?" The sounds rushed up to him. The voice sounded young and nervous.

"I don't know Sam, check the book of Policies 3:14." A different voice, the one who said his name responded. Castiel leaned out to it. The sounded rumbled through him, struck a cord.

Another set. He was inching closer to the edge, but the closer he was, the stronger the rush of sensation became.

"Come on you heartless bastard. Don't give up!" The familiar voice yelled again.

"Dean, maybe we should just..." A woman this time but it echoed strangely.

"No, just keep with it! Trust me!" The voice sounded ragged to Castiel. Exhausted. Empathic.

Trust him.

Castiel leaned forward. He could smell blood and sweat. He leaned as far off the edge he could without falling. Everything became more real, more clear.

And he jumped.

* * *

Dean arms felt like rubber as he pushed into chest of the man who pulled him from Hell. Up and down, and up and. His head felt so light. He gasped in a breath trying to keep it clear. Up and down. And up.

"God dammit!"

Sam grabbed his shoulders. "It's been ten minutes, Dean. He was in such rough shape. He might already have been-"

Dean looked up into his brother's face twisted with grief and anguish. "Sam, don't say it."

Dean leaned over the angel's face, tilted his head back again, used his thumbs to press the plastic seal of the face mask over the angel's mouth and nose and gave him another two slow breaths.

Then he jerked back away, surprise and disgust etched into his features. The angel coughed again, and his entire body rattled. Sam reached forward and ripped the twitching man onto his side. The angel continued to cough and choke. Blood sprayed in a fine mist out of his mouth.

"Cas?" Dean asked hesitantly. His own breath was coming a little ragged, from both mental and physical exertion. He sat back against the carpet to ease the strain on his legs, his still aching hip, ready to spring back into action.

Dean looked at his brother as Sam confidently and gently held the broken man on his side, as he continued to wheeze and expel fluid from his throat. Sam rolled Castiel to his back again and set the limp man's head easily on the ground.

Dean could feel Ruby waiting in the corner of the room. She paced back and forth watching them, not quite sure of what she had done. He ignored her for now.

Blue eyes fluttered stared unfocused at the carpet below both of them.

Then the entire room started to glow, softly. Dean clenched his eyes closed, expectantly. The light did not greatly increase in intensity before it faded back.

"Dean?" Castiel whispered, nearly inaudible. Every muscle in the angel's body contracted. The back of the angel's head pressed into the floor, the only point of contact all the way to the angel's bare feet. Both Dean and Sam grabbed him, lifting up his upper body. The angel sagged in their arms.

"It's okay Dean, we got him. He's back." Sam said gently.

Dean nodded then glanced at Castiel again. He watched Castiel's chest rise and fall, heard the shallow, fast breaths. Dean knew that it was a horrible improvement over what he heard, or rather, could _not_ hear, when Ruby pulled the collar off.

The body of the angel that lay on the floor before them looked like he was a victim of a runaway truck and a slasher movie. That said, it was an improvement.

The skin that was not covered by smears of clotting blood, was still too pale, but the exposed cuts were reduced to only thin silvery scars. The deep bruising on the angel's abdominal was faded. The overall ferocity and freshness of the attacks and torture were muted, slowly fading away.

Dean breath a deep sigh and let a small grin cover his features. He nodded towards Sam. "Look, angel power." Then he scrunched up his mouth. "Man, did I just sound gay?"

A quiet feminine voice breathed a response. "Yeah."

Sam let out a chortle. "Not bad, all things considered. But he's still pretty messed up."

The angel's cerulean blue eyes opened as his neck arched upwards, and locked on something on the other side of the bed.

A deep low voice sounded from the door. "Lieutenant?"

Uriel stood there, visibly appalled. The angel's jaw opened and closed. And opened again. He took three deliberate strides to stand over Dean and Sam's shoulders and eyed the angel lying on the floor.

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was coarse grunt. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the floor. Dean warily reached around Uriel's knees to grab a water bottle off the cheap bedside table and cracked the lid off. Having the angel standing behind him when he was defenseless rubbed his nerves the wrong way.

"Here." Dean waved it in front of the angel's face. "It will help with your throat. You sound worse than Kermit." A hand that shook worse than someone with Parkinson's lifted slowly up to reach it. Dark, welted, silvery scars peaked around the bloody gauze that was wrapped around Castiel's wrist. Dean gave him the bottle, but used his hand to clamp the bottle in place. If he let go, Castiel would have dropped it in a second, and soaked himself... and Dean.

The angel's face tensed more. Now not just in pain, but frustration. Dean slipped his other hand behind the angel's neck and lifted his head off the ground. The angel drank, deeply at first. But, then he seized up and started to cough. Dean flinched, and slid a knee under the Castiel's back, forcing him to sit up higher off the ground. Sam grabbed the bottle out of their hands.

The angel quit choking, and Dean lowered him down again.

Uriel huffed in disapproval. "Lieutenant. I will take you up for the remainder of your convalescence." He reached to grip Castiel's host's shoulders.

Dean was about to open his mouth to say something, but he could not decide what. Dean knew that Castiel was probably in better hands up "there", but for some reason, he could not yet bear to see the wounded figure that had haunted his dreams, pleading for aid, leave his sight. At least leave not being able to leave, under his own power. The angel should have had enough of taking orders, being dragged around without his consent.

Castiel beat him too it.

"Uriel, enough." The thin voice held an edge. The angel's eyes scrunched, and he fisted the carpet, grounding himself. "I will stay here a little longer."

"You are in no condition to make that decision. And I have orders to bring you to report." Uriel started a honest-to-God, staring contest with his superior. To say that Dean thought it impressive that Castiel could stare anyone down, even from the flat off his back on a green and gold carpet, would be a understatement.

The darker angel went red in the face. But Castiel spoke again. "I will come soon. Patience, brother." The angel swallowed painfully. "I have business here yet."

Castiel looked Uriel in the eye again. The other angel winked out of sight.

Dean heard Ruby suck in a lungful of relief.

"The water please, Dean." The voice of the angel rasped. Dean wordlessly gave it to him, and again kept the man from sloshing it all over himself.

The angel pushed himself up into a sitting position and took a small sip. "You did well in helping to avert the destruction of the Seal."

"I did what?" Dean said stupefied. "I… we saved your ass!"

"My ass in particular?" The angel cocked his head in confusion.

Dean realized he was beginning to get angry at a man who looked like he'd been chewed up by wolves and thrown over a cliff. And he was starting not to care. "Lilith," the angel flinched, "would have ended up killing you. In fact, you almost broke it. WE saved your life. That's what stopped the breaking of the Seal." Dean took in a deep cleansing breath, and stood up. His hip twinged painfully. He started limping towards the first aid kit and its drugs.

"Yes. We cannot afford another loss to... Lil–" Castiel tripped over his words. "Lucifer."

Dean did not hear the difference in tone in the angel's voice. From the firm, commanding tone to displaced fear.

"You are a thankless bastard, you know that?" Dean snarled. Sam stood up and gave his brother a warning look. But Dean saw the subtle agreement in his brother's betrayed eyes. "I finally start being able to trust you, and the second you get your mojo back, you turn into a dick!"

Castiel's face went pale with shock. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He visibly dimmed and receded back.

"No angel has ever been indebted to a mortal. I have never needed to thank anyone. Not for saving my life." He swallowed. "When you forced Alistair to end his own exorcism, and when I allowed myself to be overcome by Lilith."

Dean calmed himself as he listened. The angel had only once before been this open with him, admitting to doubt and weakness. Dean saw it as it was. Castiel need to talk, to confess, like he had after the Halloween fiasco. The angel was trying to justify himself, to reason out his problems. Castiel was not obligated to explain anything to Dean. But, suddenly knew why he did. He wanted, desperately, for Dean to trust him. Dean could feel his compassion building up in sympathetic resonance. Castiel had just spent a week with some of the kind of treatment that Dean spent forty years enduring.

"Seems like everything worked out then for you." Dean remarked, only somewhat coolly. For a second emotion flickered through Castiel's pain squinted eyes. Hurt. Disappointment. Dean shift away and stood up. A crack bit through the air as Dean put weight on his hip. "Ow." He swallowed and looked down to the body of an angel stretched out on the green and gold carpet, and offered him a hand up.

* * *

Castiel stood in the corner of the room, leaning heavily against the wall. The injuries that had been so violently inflicted on him were slow to heal. Normally damage inflicted to his mortal shell sealed up as soon as the angel could find a quiet place meditate and pray. His grace would flow through the body, as blood pumped through its veins, whisking away damage and deformity. But either Castiel could not find that quiet place in his soul, or else his Grace was still recovering itself, still wounded and dimmed. It was not an enlightening thought.

Something ran though his mind, something that a year ago, would have never emerged nor would have been warranted. Something sharper than Lillith's knives, more forceful than that bat she used, and more damaging than the reckless abandon with which she tried to destroy his mind.

Doubt.

He had come so near to damning the earth. So near. He could still feel the racing, evanescent desire to die. To give up. To commit the sin of suicide.

He tried to convince himself it was a though planted by Lilith's invasive foray into his consciousness. That it was not a thing that could have come from one such as him.

He tried.

But how could his Father not have seen that the order he sent Castiel, an 'instrument in fate', was exactly what could have fulfilled the demon's mission? The order served him up on silver platter, as Dean would have put it. Was that God's will?

He reconciled that by putting the blame for the entire mission gone awry squarely where it lay.

Castiel blamed himself.

He had failed. And earth could have been, almost _was_, one step closer to Hell.

Dean Winchester, the arrogant, faithless, cocky man, had been the perfect device to repair all of his own transgressions. A mortal had done what he could not. Perhaps he could take comfort in that. If Dean could be groomed to be a righteous man, he could save them all.

A movement in the opposite corner caught his eye. He then noticed that his vacant gaze had been locked on the demon witch that had been consorting with the younger Winchester, driving him further down a dark path to damnation.

The same demon witch who had saved the Seal, by, grudgingly the angel admitted to himself, saving his own soul. Strange, that she could muster up the moral fortitude to save an enemy's soul, when she herself had thoughtlessly squandered her own.

She locked eyes with him, and swallowed in fear. The now black irises darted towards the door, which to get to, she would have to pass by him. She glanced down at Sam, dozing lightly on a bed. Dean was awake, barely, flipping through a newspaper. He claimed that he wasn't tired, but Castiel suspected strongly that Dean was nervous, worried for his health. Castiel did not try to reassure him. He simply said he needed to get off his back for a while. That his Grace would restore him. At the time, Castiel had not lied to Dean, or himself. But now...

The sound of a foot brushing against the carpet jerked his head back up to the demon, Ruby. His reaction was that of a human's to unexpected noise. A reflex beat into him by Lilith's hoard. Not the calm assuredness of an angel, who could perceive all pieces of his Lord's Earth as he pleased, not bounded by a human's limited senses.

So instead of pulling his face back away from hers in shame, he spoke in his deep and even tone. "Why do you cower in the corner? I respect our bargain."

She shivered and began to walk towards the door. It was the wary walk of someone who thought their existence depended on the ability to dodge at a moment's notice. Either that, or it was the shimmering, bouncy swagger of an fiend who knew that their crimes could face no further prosecution.

Castiel allowed himself that thought. It was a demon he was referring to. A demon. Pain filled his breast. He could smell blood, his own. And taste it in his mouth. He opened to eye that he had scrunched closed and for a second, it looked like the knife that had been used to open him from throat to gut was in her hand. And her eyes were white. The overlay image winked out of existence.

Castiel sagged against the wall, sliding further down. The pain disappeared. But the fear stayed with him. Ruby took a long, hesitant step towards him, then gripped under his armpit, pushing him back to his feet. She looked shocked at her own action, and her hand fell back to her side.

Castiel spoke first. Intuition flooded him as he looked past her flesh facade into the eyes of her true self. And something different was there. A spark of something she did not know she could still have. "You do not know how far you have come on your way to redemption."

Her host's eyes widened and she fell backwards a step and put her hand reassuringly on the door knob. "I don't know what you're talking about. Bye Dean. Tell Sam I'll call him."

Dean looked thoughtfully at Castiel after Ruby had shut the door. "I think you just told her the demon version of 'Go to hell'. Hmm. GO TO HEAVEN." He sighed. "Just doesn't have that same ring to it."

Castiel's center of balance shifted. He stumbled sideways, and caught himself on the wall without falling. Better. When the world was no longer spinning, or at least spinning on a rather inappropriate axis with his host as its center, he looked back at Dean, who had moved a surprising distance, considering Castiel's eyes had only been closed for what seemed like a second.

Dean now stood were Ruby was. "You look like Hel– crap. Sit down before I have to wake up Sam to pick you up off the floor again." The words were said with some humour, and some worry.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "My difficulty has passed. I am currently fine." And then he noticed his list sideways, in the opposite direction. Dean grabbed his shoulders and used the momentum to sit him the unoccupied bed.

"Whatever you say, Cas." Dean looked truly confused for a moment. "Why are you still here? You usually come for a quick 'the earth is ending and you have to fix it' speech, then you pop back out again."

Castiel considered what Dean had said, and silently agreed. His orders did not state that he had to overly socialize with the mortals. Besides, in the past, that had meant awing them with choirs of heavenly singing. And he would usually be excluded from those, with good reason.

He noticed Dean growing frustrated with his non response. Humans, he reflected, were driven to use speech. It was the one gift they had mastered better than the other entirety of his Father's creations.

"Hey! Really, don't you have to follow orders? Uriel said you had to go report." Dean looked quizzically at the angel.

"Uriel's orders were to bring me to report. They had said nothing about when." Castiel answered.

Dean smirked. "You might be in a lawyer suit, instead of an accountant."

"Lawyer?"

"But, seriously. Why haven't you gone up? Wouldn't you heal faster," Dean nodded to the roof, "up there? You know, recharge the angel mojo."

"Staying down here, with all of my Father's world, is refreshing." Castiel paused and swallowed to wet his dry throat. "To feel warmth and goodness. To hear voices, and look out to see my Father's children play. To whole sense the world. And one other issue."

Dean sat down on the bed beside him. "Which is what? Or are you going to keep me in this suspense all night?"

"To find a way to... thank you. For what you did for me. I can only pick a handful of mortals over time that would be so willing to do what you did for me. Especially those that are atheists." Castiel swallowed again. He looked forward, to stare at the eye crossing pattern on the wall.

Dean choked out a laugh. "That was the most backhanded 'thank you' I have ever gotten." He chuckled.

Castiel considered the word 'backhanded', and did not understand. But he shrugged and said in his low, even tone –

"Perhaps."

* * *

The two men sat side by side, contentment lay thick in the air around them. It was the absence of fear, anger, pain, worry, malice. They both stared at the small window covered with thin blinds, watching as the colours of dusk began to shine through the window. The sound of Sam's even snores hummed in the back ground.

"When did you start being my guardian angel?"

"I always was."

"So, that last dream... when I was a little kid... Was that your memory, or mine?"

Dean looked to his left where the angel was sitting. And saw empty air.

* * *

There it was. Any comments are appreciated, Loved it/hated it. Any parts you'd liked and why. Anything that didn't quite work.

Thanks for all of the review and the support.

You guys are such a supporting fan base.

I may write again. In the summer.


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